Silly, Silly Book Series: Order of the Phoenix
by iheartmwpp
Summary: Because no matter how much we may love it, nothing is without flaws. Contains Voldemort's dumbest plan to date, Dumbledore always having the best ideas all the time, and I'm reasonably sure that Harry had an untreated concussion the whole time.
1. Well This Got Off To A Splendid Start

_A/N: This whole parody was written in twenty-five days for National Novel Writing Month last month. Won by like twenty-four words or something and I still ain't quite done yet, there's a part at the end I need to sort out quite carefully indeed. Also editing. Which is why you ain't getting the whole thing in one day. So nyah. I needed NaNoWriMo to force me to get through this one, frankly, I seriously don't think I would've been able to get through a single one of the Umbridge sections without some serious motivation. Or Snape's Worst Memory. Or St. Mungo's. Jesus Christ that section. The worst thing about them is that there are rarely any plot holes and even less opportunities to crack a joke, it's the worst, all you can do is fondly imagine her dying in horribly gruesome ways that get more and more nasty and disgusting as the book goes on, and sometimes that just isn't enough. Actually most times it isn't enough; it's never enough and will never be enough._

_So this one time, ff dot net deleted the first part of this series of things because I knew song LYRICS were uncool for some reason but I had no idea they'd have the same issue with the most casual of song TITLES accidentally and barely even consciously thrown in for lolz. Which is why this shall probably be very heavily edited at certain small points and the real thingus in its entirety shall be found at ArchiveOfOurOwn dot org under the same name/username/whatevs, because I still like this site and want to keep posting crap here HOWEVER I must do dumb things now for reasons. Actually, it's usually gonna be updated/posted/whatevs on AO3 before this site because I'll have to edit that one LESS. So...pick a site, I guess...? Iunno, man, I'm just trying to make dumb jokes that a small group of people like and stuff. :/_

_...SO HERE'S SOME FUNNY CRAP NOW I GUESS!_

**Disclaimer:** This time Dracarot helped me write like a third of the fic because he is very knowledgeable about all the things and can also use words to say things and stuff betterer than I could. Yes. Also Monty Python's Flying Circus and Jimmy Neutron and A Very Potter Sequel and the OotP Rifftrax and the Marx Brothers are things that amuse me, as does this magical series about magical people doing magical things with their magical magic that is magical. 'N stuff.

* * *

Deprived of their usual car-washing and lawn mowing pursuits, because those were so exciting to begin with, the inhabitants of Privet Drive had retreated into the shade of their cool houses, windows thrown open in the hope of tempting in a nonexistent breeze and leaving American readers to wonder why no one in the United Kingdom owns an air conditioner, especially when people like the Dursleys would totally be concerned enough with their own comfort that they would _definitely_ shell out a couple hundred pounds for something they might never use again, they did it enough with Dudley so why not now?

* * *

Harry Potter's appearance did not endear him to the neighbors, who were the sort of people who thought scruffiness ought to be punishable by law and were just thick enough to never wonder exactly why he would go about in such rags when the people he lived with were so obviously well-off, but as he had hidden himself behind a large hydrangea bush this evening he was quite invisible to passersby.

* * *

Harry was very pleased that he was concealed behind the bush; Mrs. Figg had recently taken to asking him around for tea whenever she met him on the street. Maybe if she'd dropped a hint that she knew about the wizarding world, he would have stopped by.

* * *

The opening notes of the music that heralded the seven o'clock news reached Harry's ears and his stomach turned over. Perhaps tonight — after a month of waiting — would be the night —

"NATO allies have agreed to extend their air power over all Bosnian Safe Havens following the fall of the safe havens in Srebenica and Zepa. We now go to Dracarot in Massachusetts for more information, Dracarot?"

"I'm here sir, and indeed the NATO allies are ready to make sure the remaining safe havens for the Muslim population within Bosnia are protected from further Serbian aggression.

"It was just a few weeks ago on July the eleventh when Bosnian Serbs overran the UN-declared safe haven in Srebrenica, resulting in a mass slaughter. Two weeks later, on the twenty-fifth, another UN safe haven, Žepa, was overrun, though thankfully most of the women and children had been evacuated to Sarajevo, and the male fighters had already withdrawn. Now NATO, under pressure to show its legitimacy, will now extend air protection to the remaining safe havens in Sarajevo, Bihać, Tulza, and Goražde. UN military commanders will now be able to call in NATO aircraft to launch air strikes without waiting for UN approval. While this will do nothing for the skirmishing, artillery fire, and snipers that still plague these safe havens, any further massed assaults on the safe havens will be met with staunch resistance. Last winter, the Bosnian Serbs rejected a peace deal that would have given them fifty-one percent of Bosnia; the remaining forty-nine percent would go to the Muslim population of the region. The question now becomes: will this new effort by NATO bring the Serbs back to the negotiation table, or are we witnessing what will become a full scale war in the region as Serbia continues to try and hold onto as much of what used to be Yugoslavia as possible?

"Also, it is my sad duty to remind our viewers that Group Captain (that's Colonel for us Americans) Colin Falkland Gray passed away at Kenepuru Hospital, Porirua, New Zealand today at the age of eighty, marking the end of one of Churchill's 'few' who were paramount in defending the British isles during the summer of 1940. Group Captain Gray had joined the RAF in 1939 as a New Zealand Native, despite two previous failures in entering the service due to not passing the physical requirements. His brother Ken was killed in a flying accident during May of 1940 while patrolling the English Channel. The time soon came to prove his mettle when he finally encountered the enemy. By September 1940 he had already confirmed fourteen-and-a-half kills, the vast majorities of these occurring during the Blitz. For these, among other feats, he was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross. He would go on to serve in North Africa and Sicily and was confirmed to have shot down an additional thirteen planes, bringing his total number of kills to twenty-seven-and-a-half. An ace 5 times over. After the war he would continue to serve in the RAF until 1961, at which point he took his leave of the service. He then went on to serve as the Director of Unilever a multinational consumer goods company. He would retire from that in 1979. He went on to publish an autobiography in 1990, entitled Spitfire Patrol, in which he described his time in the RAF. He leaves behind his wife Betty, four children, and a step daughter. Our thoughts and prayers go out to them and to thank Colin Gray for his service.

"Oh and to any secret society of uninformed wizards out there, THE WORLD DOES NOT REVOLVE AROUND YOU WIZARDS! While you were getting ready for your first year at Hogwarts, the entire Soviet Union gave its last *BEEP* gasp! That news story about Bosnia? In the June before the Boy Who Lived went to Hogwarts, Yugoslavia began breaking up, leading to that very news story! The Somali Civil War started in January of '91 and on Oct 3-4 of '93 the Battle of Mogadishu that brought about the infamous "Black Hawk Down" incident, resulting in eighteen Americans, one Malaysian, and one Pakistani of the UN forces killed as well as eighty-two wounded, occurred, scaring the U.S. out of intervening in Africa. Which in turn is why the US did nothing during the Rwandan Genocide in April of '94, and that didn't wrap up till mid way through July! In the February of the Boy Who Lived's second year, the World Trade Center was bombed, and in the April of his fourth year the Oklahoma City Bombing occurred! In the April of his third year Apartheid ended in South Africa and Nelson Mandela became president of that country, may he rest in peace in the future! Just prior to the third task of the Triwizard tournament Quebec nearly voted to break off from Canada in a referendum! The Oslo accords were signed in September of his third year, resulting in the PLO recognizing Israel's right to exist and created the PNA to have some control in what was going on in the West Bank and Gaza strip! In the February of his first year the European Union came into being! The Chunnel finally started taking passengers in the November of his fourth year! And that's just all the world changing stuff that British News would have probably focused on! I probably even missed some in there! You know what the point is? _**THE REST OF THE WORLD IS STILL HAPPENING WHILE YOU GO AND ISOLATE YOURSELF IN YOUR HOCUS POCUS WORLD!**_

"Reporting for the BBC, this is Dracarot, signing off."

"…Thank you, Dracarot. And now, something about water-skiing budgies. What the fuck is a budgie. Oh, that's a budgie. Cool."

Harry's heart stopped. Could Voldemort have been hiding out in Bosnia this whole time and that's why he hadn't heard anything in so long? Could _he _have been responsible for all those terrible events he'd just heard about? OR WAS HE BEHIND THE WATER-SKIING BUDGIE THE WHOLE TIME OOOH IT'S SO MYSTERIOUS.

* * *

"_Put — it — away!"_ Uncle Vernon snarled into Harry's ear. _"Now! Before — anyone — sees!"_

"Get — off — me!" Harry gasped; for a few seconds they struggled, Harry pulling at his uncle's sausage-like fingers with his left hand, his right maintaining a firm grip on his wand. Then, as the pain in the top of Harry's head gave a particularly nasty throb, Uncle Vernon yelped and released Harry as though he had received an electric shock — some invisible force that was probably accidental magic that apparently went completely unnoticed by the Ministry seemed to have surged through his nephew, making him impossible to hold.

Panting, Harry fell forward over the hydrangea bush, straightened up, and stared around. There was no sign of what had caused the loud cracking noise, but there were several faces peering through various nearby windows. Harry stuffed his wand hastily back into his jeans and tried to look innocent. This whole passage thus far is quite amusing if you consider a wand as a euphemism for penis.

"Lovely evening!" shouted Uncle Vernon, waving at Mrs. Number Seven, who was staring at him in horror from behind her net curtains. "Did you hear that car backfire just now? Gave Petunia and me quite a turn!"

"Were you just strangling your nephew?" Mrs. Number Seven shouted back at him, her look of horror slowly turning into one of anger.

"Er…no?" said Uncle Vernon.

"I just saw you strangling your nephew," Mrs. Number Seven insisted loudly.

"So did I," yelled Mr. Number Six.

"Said nephew of yours has lived on this street his whole life, how does he not know any of our names," said Ms. Number Five.

"I'm calling child services," announced Mrs. Number Seven.

"I'll be a witness!" said Mr. Number Six.

"Hey, boy, want to take refuge in here for the night so your uncle doesn't straight-up murder you before the authorities even make it to your house?" asked Ms. Number Five.

Harry shrugged before heading over, ignoring Uncle Vernon's shouted threats to get back inside. Even an orphanage had to be better than the Dursleys…

* * *

Dear Ron and Hermione,

I can gather from the vague hints in your letters that you're in the same place together. As great as it is that you're finally getting some alone time with each other, you don't know how much it hurts me to know that the two of you are having fun together this summer while I'm stuck alone in this hellhole. You said you'd see me soon and "tell me everything" then, but unless I see a precise date in the next letter, don't bother writing to me again. Although just turning up and kidnapping me again would not go without thanks in the slightest, nudge, nudge, wink, wink, grin, grin, say no more. But seriously, if I don't see you again until Hogwarts, and you don't tell me anything useful until that time either, then I'm seriously going to consider expanding my circle of friends to people who visibly give a shit.

Harry

* * *

"How long have you been 'Big D' then?" said Harry.

"Since a couple of my school rivals' mums found out that the D stands for my wiener," snarled Dudley instantly.

* * *

"So you've you been beating up tonight?" Harry asked, his grin fading. "Another ten-year-old? I know you did Mark Evans two nights ago—"

"He was asking for it," snarled Dudley.

"Oh yeah?"

"He's got a certain last name that made far too many people think he's our cousin or whatever to the point that JKR herself had to come out and tell everyone to stop it."

"Huh. Still don't think that warranted the dislocated shoulder, the cracked ribs, and the fractured skull."

"Oh what do _you_ know."

* * *

"Keep your wand out," Mrs. Figg told Harry, as they entered Wisteria Walk. "Never mind the Statute of Secrecy now, there's going to be hell to pay anyway, we might as well be hanged for a dragon as an egg."

"…The fuck does that even mean."

"I have no idea."

* * *

"Why didn't you tell me you were a Squib?" Harry asked Mrs. Figg, panting with the effort to keep walking. "All those times I came round your house — why didn't you say anything?"

"Dumbledore's orders. I was to keep an eye on your but not say anything, you were too young. I'm sorry I gave you such a miserable time, but the Dursleys would never have let you come if they'd thought you enjoyed it."

"So why didn't you wait till I was about six or seven, explain to me that if I let on that I was having a good time I wouldn't be able to come back 'round, and then at least let me enjoy the day and pretend to have had a horrible time when Aunt Petunia picked me op again?"

"Because I am the dumb."

"No argument here…"

* * *

"Dementors?" repeated Mundungus, aghast. "Dementors here?"

"Yes, here, you worthless pile of bat droppings, here!" shrieked Mrs. Figg. Dementors attacking the boy on your watch!"

"Blimey," said Mundungus weakly, looking from Mrs. Figg to Harry and back again. "Blimey, I…"

"And you off buying stolen cauldrons! Didn't I tell you not to go? _Didn't I?"_

"Actually, I stopped by headquarters to let everyone 'oo was there know that 'Arry's apparently gone super nuts, laying about in bushes and things. Sirius was still shouting at Dumbledore when I left, and even _Lupin_ didn't think 'e was in the right anymore."

Mrs. Figg let out a low whistle.

"I know, right? But after that…yeah, went after the cauldrons," Mundungus admitted shamefacedly.

"Fucking called it."

* * *

"I hope Dumbledore _murders_ him!" said Mrs. Figg. "Now come _on,_ Harry, what are you waiting for?"

"Hey, how 'bout you open your eyes, you fat bitch," Harry chocked out, finally collapsing under Dudley's weight.

"Huh. Maybe I could've helped with that."

"YA FUCKIN' _THINK?!"_

* * *

"Well it's no good crying over spilled potion, I suppose…but the cat's among the pixies now…"

"No one talks like that, not even the most magical people I know talk like that."

"I'm so ostracized and disconnected from that world that I want to be as much a part of it as I possibly can, even if that means I have to limit myself to saying dumb phrases no one ever uses?"

"I suppose that's a decent explanation. Can you stop it?"

"I don't see how it matters, you'll only see me one more time before I disappear forever."

"Oh, okay then."

* * *

"So," Harry panted, "Dumbledore's…been having…me followed?"

"Of course he has," said Mrs. Figg impatiently. "Did you expect him to let you wander around on your own after what happened in June?"

"Well if he felt like that, why not confine me to the house where theoretically no one, including dementors, would be able to get at me? Or at least outline a radius that I would've been safe inside from, say, a dementor attack or something similar?"

"Oh don't be ridiculous, Harry, he wouldn't limit your freedom like that! Apart from forcing you to stay with your abusive relatives who clearly don't give a shit about you and have people spy on you and report every move you make back to him, of course! Good Lord, boy, they told me you were intelligent…"

"…And not one of them noticed that I was clearly wandering around in a rage, not having recovered at all from my traumatic experience of _watching __a __friend __fucking DIE right __before __my __eyes_ and being _repeatedly tortured __via __Cruciatus __Curse_ due to a clear lack of a supportive environment? Did not _one_ of them think that maybe they should, I dunno, _talk __to __me_ or something? I get that Dumbledore's trying to avoid me this year, it doesn't mean he has to force everyone else to do the same thing!"

"I am so high right now," muttered Dudley.

* * *

"Right…get inside and stay there," said Mrs. Figg as they reached number four.

"Oh, so those things can't get in the house?" said Harry hopefully.

"Well of course they can," chortled Mrs. Figg, "the walls will just mute the screams for your neighbors!"

"…Brilliant."

"I expect someone will be in touch with you soon enough."

"I've been hearing that _all fucking summer_ and NOTHING'S HAPPENED."

* * *

"What did he do to you, Diddy?" Aunt Petunia said in a quavering voice, now sponging sick from the front of Dudley's leather jacket. "And what on Earth are you doing wearing that thing in this weather? Did you just get heat stroke and want to blame the boy for it, 'cause your father and I would be _totally_ down with that."

* * *

Dear Mr. Potter,

We have received intelligence—stop laughing this instant—that you performed the Patronus Charm at twenty-three minutes past nine this evening in a Muggle-inhabited area and in the presence of a Muggle.

Upon further investigation, we have come to the conclusion that this particular Muggle was already aware of the existence of magic, and was also, for the most part, completely unaware and half-conscious when it was happening.

We're still expelling you, though.

Hoping you are well,

Yours sincerely,

Mafalda Hopkirk

Improper Use of Magic Office

Ministry of Magic

* * *

"Get out and never darken our towels again!"

* * *

Harry paced the bedroom waiting for Hedwig to come back, his head pounding, his brain too busy for sleep even though his eyes stung and itched with tiredness. His back ached from carrying Dudley home, and the two lumps on his head where the window and Dudley had hit him were throbbing painfully.

…I've got a theory, and it's a doozy. I also have done some simple Google searches on various health-related and seemingly validated websites to back it up, and I think it holds up decently well.

I'm pretty sure Harry might have a concussion at this point.

He hit the window really hard and then he was hit again by Dudley. Concussions can be caused by something as simple as a bad fall, it doesn't have to be a really big impact for symptoms to start. Symptoms include headaches, which Harry had throughout his frustrating conversation with the Dursleys, a sensitivity to noise which might explain why he was begging Ron and Hermione to shut up when they were arguing that one time plus again with the Dursleys, feeling mentally foggy and having difficulty concentrating which might just be from pressure of the O.W.L.s but still, feeling slowed down which Harry feels outright stalled by everything at every turn this year so it may be outside influences that could well be heightened by internal ones, and sleep troubles which were admittedly caused by PTSD flashbacks and Voldemort and seventy other things but again with the not helping.

More symptoms that I found interesting was the injured party having unequal pupils, which the Dursleys would not have cared enough to notice, and neck stiffness, which the _movie_ of all things actually added as if it supports my theory or something, how weird is that.

Even MOAR symptoms include irritability, becoming more emotional than usual, and having severe personality changes and even admitting to not feeling like oneself. The fanbase seems really divided between how horrible it is that Harry's suddenly this whiny emo little bitch, and how great it is that JKR wrote a completely realistic and believable teenager who should actually be way more messed up than this and it's about time he got this off his chest. While I lean towards the latter, he might have a medical excuse for his actions now as well. Huzzah.

Fun fact: Concussions are also known as MILD TRAUMATIC BRAIN INJURIES. There's also something called second impact syndrome that only occurs in people under twenty-one, where a second blow to a head that already has a concussion can cause extremely severe symptoms such as _death_. How's that for a plot bunneh; Dudley punches Harry and Harry flat-out _dies_ and then Dudley gets his soul sucked out right after he just murdered his cousin.

Recovery times vary from case to case; most recover in less than three months, sans magic of course and assuming they even know there's a problem in the first place. However, a second injury can make recovery time longer, and of course some people just take longer to recover anyway, especially if they don't know they have a problem and therefore don't seek medical attention of any kind. And also kids sometimes take longer to recover in general. This might contribute to why Harry was arguably at his bitchiest in the first half of the book.

Strenuous mental activity should be avoided during recovery, so BOY does it suck that it's O.W.L. year.

Harry goes to sleep not long after Hedwig finally gets back and he sends her off again; the whole thing about people with concussions slipping into comas or dying is actually a myth, though it's advised to wake the injured person a couple of times throughout the first night just to make sure they _can_ wake up in any case. Which, if the Dursleys had figured out that Harry did have a concussion, they probably would have happily let him sleep through the night without losing any sleep themselves, as they're such wonderful people like that. Also this is 1995 and the website I found this on seemed to imply that the knowledge that this is a myth only came about very recently, so there's that too…

So yeah, it's just a theory, but it's now my new headcanon, so yay.

* * *

"Harry, what form does your Patronus take?" said Lupin.

"A stag," said Harry nervously.

"That's him, Mad-Eye," said Lupin.

"I thought everyone saw Potter perform it at the Gryffindor vs. Ravenclaw match two years ago," said Moody.

"Oh. Right. Bugger."

* * *

Lupin held out his hand and shook Harry's.

"How are you?" he asked, looking at Harry closely.

"Are you one of the people that's apparently been stalking me everywhere?" Harry shot back.

"…Maybe," Lupin admitted at length, looking uncomfortable.

"Then how 'bout you tell me."

"…You haven't been looking that great."

"NO FUCKING WAY."

* * *

"How're we getting — wherever we're getting?" Harry asked.

"Brooms," said Lupin. "Only way. You're too young to Apparate, Side-Along Apparition won't be invented until next year and still might trigger something because of the inconsistent-as-hell Trace, we're not sure, it's really unclear, they'll be watching the Floo Network, and it's more than our life's worth to set up an unauthorized Portkey."

"…So I suppose cars, taxis, the Underground, or the _Knight Bus_ are all out of the question," said Harry flatly.

"Remus say's you're a good flyer," said Kinglsey Shacklebolt quickly.

* * *

"Very _clean,_ aren't they, these Muggles?" said the witch called Tonks, who was looking around the kitchen with great interest. "My dad's Muggle-born and he's a right old slob. I suppose it varies, just like with wizards?"

"That was rather racist of you," said Harry.

* * *

"Funny place," said Tonks, "it's a bit _too_ clean, d'you know what I mean? Bit unnatural. It's almost as though these Muggles are attempting to conceal some perceived abnormality in their midst so they overcompensate in other areas."

"…"

* * *

"Right — got everything?" asked Tonks after casting a spell that sent everything Harry owned into his trunk. "Cauldron? Broom? Wow! A _Firebolt?"_

"Wouldn't you have sent my cauldron into my trunk already, and how come brooms are never seen outside of their trunks, wouldn't they be somehow shoved inside them as well?" asked Harry, but Tonks was too busy gushing over the Firebolt to listen.

Just then, a tawny owl flew into Harry's open window, dropped an envelope onto the bed, and sped out again.

"Oh crap," muttered Tonks as Harry opened the letter with some trepidation.

Dear Mr. Potter,

We have received intelligence—FOR GOD'S SAKE SHUT UP!—that several spells were used in quick succession at your place of residence at thirty-seven minutes past one on the morning of the sixth of August. These spells include but are not limited to a Repairing Charm, an Illumination Charm, and a Packing Charm.

As we are currently operating under HBP rules for the purposes of this gag, all knowledge of the Trace is for the moment unknown to any of us and instead we're going with the part where any magic in your vicinity would logically have been cast by you since there is no other wizard living anywhere near you, anyone wishing to pick you up has always followed Ministry guidelines before so we knew that Arthur Weasley would have performed any magic that occurred at your place of residence the previous year, and obviously we're monitoring you more closely than ever nowadays.

You are now _definitely _expelled and may well have to pay a fine for breaking the Statute of Secrecy and the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery so many times in such a short period.

What the fuck is wrong with you,

Yours sincerely,

Mafalda Hopkirk

Improper Use of Magic Office

Ministry of Magic

Harry looked up at Tonks, who was reading over his shoulder.

"I think I might murder you," he said calmly.

Tonks gulped.

* * *

"We ought to double back for a bit, just to make sure we're not being followed!" Moody shouted.

"ARE YOU MAD, MAD-EYE?" Tonks screamed from the front. "We're all frozen to our brooms!"

"Couldn't you lot have used magic to keep us warm?" asked Harry loudly.

"DO NOT SPEAK OF THAT WHICH YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND," yelled Emmeline.

* * *

"But where's—?"

"Think about what you've just memorized," said Lupin quietly.

"I _have_ been, why isn't anything happening?"

No sooner had the words left his mouth than a battered door emerged out of nowhere between numbers eleven and thirteen, followed swiftly by dirty walls and grimy windows. It was as though an extra house had inflated, pushing those on either side out if its way. Harry gaped at it, wondering why he was so surprised that magical things were happening right in front of his face after a solid five years of knowing magic existed.

* * *

"Dumbledore could still've kept me informed if he'd wanted to," Harry said shortly. "You're not telling me he doesn't know ways to send messages without owls."

Hermione glanced at Ron and then said, "I thought that too. But he didn't want you to know _anything."_

"Why not?" said Harry, endeavoring to keep his voice as calm as possible and just barely managing it.

"I think he just didn't want you to worry so much about things that were entirely out of your control, especially so soon after you experienced so much nightmare-inducing trauma two months ago," Hermione theorized. "And also he didn't want you to worry about any pesky little things like therapy or at least someone to talk to, either, obviously."

"…And he didn't think that leaving me in the dark about everything, basically not letting me be in contact with you guys considering how little we were able to talk about apparently, and leaving me alone at a place where everyone knows I'm absolutely miserable with apparently no chance of getting away short of Hogwarts or attempted soul-removal would _worry_ me in any way," said Harry flatly. "I mean, why would he want to keep me in the dark, considering I've been doing his job of keeping the school safe _for_ him for, if not last year, than the three years before that? Does my track record prove that I'm somehow incapable of handling anything? This is just like with Sirius two years ago, only Voldemort really _is_ after me, he really _does_ want to kill not only me, but everyone I love, so shouldn't I know what he's up to so I'm able to protect myself?"

"We tried to tell him that," Hermione insisted, "but again, he seemed to think it was best."

"And you couldn't have told him flat-out that he was wrong?"

"I'm sorry, Harry, we're just not that brave."

"Where's Neville when you need him," Harry muttered, _"he_ would've stood up for me…"

"We tried as best we could, and we even talked to some of the people tasked to watch you to try and convince Dumbledore about how clearly miserable you were, but apparently he still wouldn't listen."

"Yeah, about that, did no one think of how betrayed I might feel once I found out that wizards were stalking me everywhere and that I could've talked to them at any time, and that I was apparently the only one in the entire wizarding world who didn't know about it?"

"…I'm not entirely sure they ever intended for you to find out, to be honest," said Hermione ponderously.

"Oh, brilliant."

"It could be that Dumbledore's a gargantuan arsehole and both we and he are so used to following his orders without question that the minute we _do_ try to question him he freaks out and runs away," said Ron, shrugging.

"…You know what, I'll accept that theory," said Harry, stroking Hedwig.

* * *

"Snape?" said Harry quickly. "Is he here?"

"Yeah," said George, carefully closing the door and sitting down on one of the beds; Fred and Ginny followed. "Giving a report. Top secret."

"Git," said Fred idly.

"He's on our side now," said Hermione reprovingly.

"'I see no difference,'" said Ron in a scarily-impressive Snape impression, picking at his teeth.

"…You know, you're right, fuck that guy," said Hermione grumpily.

"ONE OF US," chorused the Weasleys, "ONE OF US, ONE OF US…"

* * *

Wouldn't it be an interesting fanfic idea if Percy agreed to _pretend_ to abandon his family to spy on the Ministry for Dumbledore, and his family didn't know in order to make the rift as realistic as possible? If he'd come back with _that_ excuse I'd have thought it was a great moment with a fantastic last-minute twist instead of just thinking it's a ham-fisted last-minute ass-pull…

* * *

If werewolves really had superhuman strength in the Potterverse Lupin would've been able to close the curtains around Walburga's portrait on his own with ease. But as he doesn't would you _please_ stop writing it, you lose at least one reader every time she sees it.

* * *

_A/N: YAY LEARNING ABOUT WORLD EVENTS I NEVER WOULD'VE KNOWN OTHERWISE! Seriously, didn't hear about any of this until now. I'm really not all that fond of America's habit of being so focused within itself that it barely touches on world events, especially when we could be talking about a celebrity's new brand of nail polish instead, but I have no idea how to change that mentality beyond starting to at least condition myself to do more outside research on current events and world history. Except the only "world" history I've been exposed to really just boils down to European history and how that relates to the start of America anyway. And then we go over the Revolutionary War for about six or seven years in a row. Which basically conditioned me to despise all history with the fiery passion of a thousand suns. And people wonder why our test scores are stagnated while other countries pull so much farther ahead all the time. The rest of you keep up the good work, I honestly don't even know what we're doing anymore._

_Updates are every Saturday until I finish this bitch/it gets deleted for some other thing I thought was okay but apparently isn't for some reason. I'M JUST THE PINNACLE OF OPTIMISM, AIN'T I. XD It'll still be on AO3, though, they're awesome like that._

**_Review or loads of people will stalk you and absolutely everyone on the planet will know about it except you and won't think it's such a big deal when you finally try to call them out on it._**


	2. Damn It, I Really Like Molly

_A/N: Watching a Harry Potter movie: EEEEEEEEE THIS IS GONNA BE SO AWESOME I CAN'T WAIT TO LOVE ALL OF THE THINGS okay that's wrong that's wrong that doesn't seem right EEEEEEEEEE THAT WAS AMAZING AND NOT EVEN BECAUSE IT WAS GOOD I JUST LIKE THAT PARTICULAR CHARACTER AND/OR MOMENT THOUGH IT STILL MIGHT HAVE BEEN GOOD ANYWAY okay that just makes no sense out of context how would anyone who hasn't read the books understand anything EEEEEEEEE THAT WAS LEGITIMATELY AWESOME IN EVERY POSSIBLE WAY okay that was shoddily acted that music choice seems off i'm not sure i like it THIS TRACK IS SO PERFECT FOR EVERYTHING why the balls is _everyone_ dressed in Muggle attire even the most insane of pureblood bigots who _designed_ this shlock wow way to completely contradict all of canon did you even read the books at all this is terrible OMAGAWD HOW MANY TEARS DID I JUST SHED THAT WAS SO SAD WHY IS EVERYONE I LOVE DEAD that didn't really make sense in the book either come to think of it why is dumbledore so crappy in over half of these things that was terrible casting on all counts._

_Watching a Lord of the Rings/Hobbit movie: EEEEEEEEE THIS IS GONNA BE SO AWESOME I CAN'T WAIT TO LOVE ALL THE THINGS HOLY SHIT THEY REALLY MANAGED TO CRAM EVERYTHING IN WOW IS THAT FROM THE SILMARILLION THAT'S SO COOL THAT THEY MANAGED TO INCLUDE THAT HOLY SHIT EVERYONE'S SUCH A GOOD ACTOR EVERYTHING FEELS REAL EVERYONE LOOKS AND DRESSES AND FEELS EXACTLY HOW THEY'RE SUPPOSED TO dad shut up about the beards they had to differentiate everyone so they could be told apart god OH WOW EVERYTHING IS SO WELL-PUT TOGETHER I COULD EASILY EXPLAIN THIS YES SOME OF THE NAMES ARE HARD TO REMEMBER/PRONOUNCE BUT SO THE FUCK WHAT wait dad you know this series better than me was that a thing oh it wasn't well does it still work yeah i thought so too SERIOUSLY THIS COULD NOT HAVE BEEN HANDLED BETTER THE MUSIC IS NEVER POORLY DONE AT ALL EVER I NEED TO OWN ALL OF THEM IMMEDIATELY wait dad was that a thing oh it was okay YOU COULD NOT HAVE PICKED A BETTER GANDALF HOLY SHIT._

_...So _Desolation of Smaug _was okay I guess. XD_

**Disclaimer:** Dracarot pitched an idea and I ran with it again. Also Kitty279's ideas are back now too and stuff. And I'm starting to realize that I get a lot of my good lines from the father person. Aaaand I think the only other thing I stole things from was the Rifftrax for the movie adaptation of this particular installment that is also not mine to start with. Cool.

* * *

"Hasn't anyone told you? This was my parents' house," said Sirius.

"Of course no one's told me, no one ever tells me anything ever," muttered Harry.

"Knew you'd be upset about that," said Sirius, grinning wryly. "But yeah, I'm the last Black left, so it's mine now. I offered it to Dumbledore for headquarters — about the only useful thing I've been able to do."

"You could do the dishes—"

"Go to hell, Mrs. Weasley!"

* * *

"Journey all right, Harry?" Bill called, trying to gather up twelve scrolls at once. "Mad-Eye didn't make you come via Greenland, then?"

"He tried," said Tonks. "And you know, for wanting to leave secretly and all, it might not have been the best idea to all line up in the street and mount brooms where anyone could've looked out a window at any time since Mad-Eye didn't use the Deluminator until we got to _this_ street, not to mention that using what are basically _fireworks_ for the signal to leave might have also been a bit much." Shrugging, she strode over to help Bill and immediately sent a candle toppling onto the last piece of parchment. "Oh no — _sorry _—"

"Here, dear," said Mrs. Weasley, sounding exasperated, and she repaired the parchment with a wave of her wand: In the flash of light caused my Mrs. Weasley's charm, Harry caught a glimpse of what looked like the plan of a building.

Mrs. Weasley had seen him looking. She snatched the plan off the table and stuffed it into Bill's heavily laden arms.

"This sort of thing ought to be cleared away promptly at the end of meetings," she snapped before sweeping off toward an ancient dresser from which she started unloading dinner places.

Bill took out his wand, muttered _"Evanesco!"_ and the scrolls vanished.

"…If you were just going to vanish them anyway, why'd you get so butthurt when I set one on fire and why'd you bother to repair it," muttered Tonks.

"Do shut up, dear."

* * *

"I've been stuck inside for a month," grumbled Sirius.

"How come?" asked Harry, frowning.

"Because the Ministry of Magic's still after me, and Voldemort will know all about me being an Animagus by now, Wormtail will have told him, so my big disguise is useless. There's not much I can do for the Order of the Phoenix…or so Dumbledore feels."

"Did Dumbledore forget about Invisibility Cloaks or Polyjuice Potion?" said Harry. "And I just learned about Disillusionment Charms and I'm sure there are many other ways to disguise oneself magically considering we'll be learning about it next year and Ron gets away with the Dragomir Despard look two years from now."

"Yeah, Dumbledore's just being kind of a dick this year," said Sirius regretfully.

"Also why do we keep referring to Pettigrew as Wormtail, wasn't that some honored nickname that symbolized you four's friendship or whatever, why would you want to continue to sort of pay tribute to him by continuing to call him that."

"Stop saying things that make sense."

* * *

"At least you know what's going on," Harry said bracingly.

"Oh yeah," said Sirius sarcastically. "Listening to Snape's reports, having to take all his snide hints that he's risking his life while I'm sat on my backside here having a nice comfortable time…asking me how the cleaning's going—"

"What cleaning?" asked Harry.

"The cleaning Hermione _just_ told you about fifteen pages ago, learn to pay attention."

"But why are the underage kids helping with the cleaning when you lot can just flick your wands and have everything spotless in less than a minute."

"Because some of this crap is intensely magical and therefore cannot be cleaned magically."

"...That's the dumbest bullshit I think I've ever heard," said Harry flatly.

"Oh, just wait till the rest of the book!" said Sirius brightly. "Also I think Kreacher might be dirtying everything up again while we sleep."

"...How."

"I really prefer not to think about it."

* * *

"— none of your brothers caused this sort of trouble!" Mrs. Weasley raged at the twins, slamming a fresh flagon of butterbeer onto the table and spilling almost as much again. "Bill didn't feel the need to Apparate every few feet! Charlie didn't Charm everything he met! Percy—"

"_Totally_ Apparated every few feet, Mum, we went over this last year," argued George.

"And frankly I just kept the fact that I Apparated every few feet from you two," Bill added sheepishly. Mrs. Weasley shot a look of betrayal in his general direction.

* * *

Mr. Weasley, Bill, and Lupin were having an intense discussion about goblins.

"They're not giving anything away yet," said Bill. "I still can't work out whether they believe he's back or not. 'Course, they might prefer not to takes sides at all. Keep out of it."

"I'm sure they'd never go over to You-Know-Who," said Mr. Weasley, shaking his head. "They've suffered losses too. Remember that goblin family he murdered last time, somewhere near Nottingham?"

"I think it depends on what they're offered," said Lupin. "And I'm not talking about gold; if they're offered freedoms we've been denying them for centuries they're going to be tempted."

"That reminds me," said Mr. Weasley, "I know you don't canonically work with the werewolves until next year, but what are your thoughts on which side they'll take?"

"They'll take Voldemort's side for sure," said Lupin immediately. "He'll promise them freedoms the wizarding world has been denying them for centuries and they _will_ be tempted."

"But what about the part where the others working for You-Know-Who think all of them are disgusting abominations—no offense—"

"None taken."

"—and will want to commit genocide on them as soon as they've taken over the world or at least country?" asked Bill.

"Which is why _I'm_ not joining him, I'm fully aware of that, but _he_ won't tell them that and they'll just follow him blindly even if he just promises them food."

"And we're just pushing them toward him more and more with each law that gets passed these days," said Mr. Weasley wearily.

"Pretty much," said Lupin.

"And joyous times were had by all," muttered Bill.

* * *

"Molly doesn't approve of Mundungus," said Sirius in an undertone.

"How come he's in the Order?" Harry said very quietly.

"He's useful," Sirius muttered. "Knows all the crooks — well, he would, seeing as he's one himself. But he's also very loyal to Dumbledore, who helped him out of a tight spot once. It pays to have someone like Dung around, he hears things we don't. But Molly thinks inviting him to dinner is going too far. She hasn't forgiven him for slipping off duty when he was supposed to be tailing you. Heh heh, duty."

"And you have, then, I take it?" said Harry, looking at his godfather curiously.

"Well if you hadn't gotten into this mess I might not have seen you at all this _year_, I'm bloomin' _grateful_ to the ruddy bastard!"

"Fair point, I like him too now."

"There you go. Plus, hey, it's my house, I do what I want."

"Sounds good to me!"

* * *

"_You're too young, you're not in the order," _said Fred, in a high-pitched voice that sounded uncannily like his mother's. "Harry's not even of age!"

"It's not my fault you haven't been told what the Order's doing," said Sirius calmly. "That's your parents' decision. Harry, on the other hand—"

"It's not down to you to decide what's good for Harry!" said Mrs. Weasley sharply. Her normally kind face looked dangerous.

"It's not up to a godparent chosen by the child's parents to have a say in what's good for their charge?" Sirius asked politely, but with an air as though readying himself for a fight.

"Dumbledore has more of a say in his life than you do!" said Mrs. Weasley. "Apparently!"

"And what if I don't agree with what Dumbledore's choice was?" said Sirius.

"When has Dumbledore ever been wrong before?" shot back Mrs. Weasley.

"When he thought I was guilty," Sirius immediately replied, "when he set dementors around the school, when he put a highly desired magical object in a school full of children, when he didn't fight harder for Harry to not have to participate in the tournament, when he refused to even heal his leg before forcing him to relive the worst moment in his life, when he had fifty years to clear Hagrid's name and didn't do a bloody thing about it, when he left a baby old enough to walk alone and unguarded on a doorstep in November and never checked up on him ever, and also right now in my opinion."

"DUMBLEDORE IS WIZARD GOD AND CAN DO NO WRONG."

"So if he ordered you to slit the throat of one of your children, you'd do it without hesitation."

"What?! No, of course not."

"Well that's what we'd be metaphorically doing by not telling Harry, or any of them really, anything. One way we could _prevent_ them or anyone else from dying is by telling then what the hell is going on, so they won't risk their lives trying to find out what we're not telling them like they end up doing _every __single __year_, and also so they might actually start trusting us to know what's best for them instead of resenting us for _assuming_ we know what's best for them and always talking down to them and stuff! They're not children anymore, Molly, I doubt Harry ever _has_ been!"

"He's not an adult either!" said Mrs. Weasley, the color rising in her cheeks. "He's not _James,_ Sirius!"

"I'm perfectly clear who he is, thanks, movie," said Sirius coldly.

* * *

"Well," said Mrs. Weasley, breathing deeply and looking around the table for support that did not come, "Well…I can see I'm going to be overruled. I'll just say this: Dumbledore must have had his reasons for not wanting Harry to know too much, and speaking as someone who has got Harry's best interests at heart—"

"He's not your son," said Sirius quietly.

"He's as good as," said Mrs. Weasley fiercely. "Who else has he got?"

"He's got me!"

"Yes," said Mrs. Weasley, her lip curling. "The thing is, it's been rather difficult for you to look after him while you've been locked up in Azkaban, hasn't it?"

"You are a guest in this house!" Sirius yelled, starting to rise from his chair. "If you will not address the one who is permitting you to stay here with more respect, I am going to have to ask you to leave and only come here for Order meetings!"

"You can't just kick my family out like this!" Mrs. Weasley spat.

"I never said anything about your children or your husband, I was speaking directly to _you_. And _you_, unlike me, can leave whenever you want, and I strongly encourage you to do so at this point in time. If you insult me like that again, you know where the door is." Sirius made a motion toward the kitchen door.

"I'm only saying what everyone in here is thinking—"

"If Hagrid had given me Harry in the first place, we wouldn't be having this conversation," said Sirius darkly.

"Molly, you're not the only person at this table who cares for Harry," said Lupin sharply. "Sirius, sit _down."_

Mrs. Weasley's lower lip was trembling. Sirius sank slowly back into his chair, his face white.

"Good boy," said Lupin, patting Sirius on the head. Ron, Fred, George, and Ginny snorted. "I think Harry ought to be allowed a say in this," Lupin continued. "He's old enough to decide for himself."

"I want to know why none of you seem to think that a psychotic murderer who wants to kill me and everyone I care about would be any of my business," said Harry flatly.

"It worked well enough two years ago, didn't it?" said Mrs. Weasley desperately.

"Not really," said Harry, Ron, Hermione, Sirius, and Lupin in unison.

* * *

"Very well," said Mrs. Weasley, her voice cracking. "Ginny — Ron — Hermione — Fred — George — I want you out of this kitchen, now."

There was instant uproar.

"We're of age!" Fred and George bellowed together.

"If Harry's allowed, why can't I?" shouted Ron.

"Mum, I am as old as Harry was when he was forced to go through the tournament, a year older than he was when he was forced to fight off dementors and thought Sirius was after him, two years older than he was when he _killed a basilisk_, and _three_ years older than he was when he came _face-to-face with You-Know-Bloody-Who!" _wailed Ginny.

"Language, young lady," Mrs. Weasley scolded, "and you won't be fourteen for roughly another week anyway!"

"Oh yeah, because a few days make _so much_ of a difference!" scoffed Ginny.

"And I really don't know where you get the nerve to order _me_ to do anything," said Hermione coldly, "as I am _not _your daughter."

* * *

"So what's the Order been doing?" said Harry, looking around at them all.

"Working as hard as we can to make sure Voldemort can't carry out his plans," said Sirius.

"How d'you know what his plans are?" Harry asked quickly.

"Dumbledore's got a shrewd idea," said Lupin, "and Dumbledore's shrewd ideas normally turn out to be accurate. Except for all the times he's been horribly wrong, of course."

"So what does Dumbledore reckon he's planning?"

"Well, firstly, he wants to build up his army again," said Sirius. "Dumbledore thinks this because it's fairly obvious. In the old days he had huge numbers at his command; witches and wizards he'd bullied or bewitched into following him, his faithful Death Eaters, a great variety of Dark creatures. You heard him planning to recruit the giants; well, they'll be just one group he's after. He's certainly not going to try and take on the Ministry of Magic with only a dozen Death Eaters even though that's exactly what he's going to do at the end of this school year."

"…Right…"

* * *

"Who said none of us was putting the news out?" said Sirius. "Why d'you think Dumbledore's in such trouble?"

"What d'you mean?" Harry asked.

"They're trying to discredit him," said Lupin. "Didn't you see the _Daily Prophet_ last week? They reported that he'd been voted out of the Chairmanship of the International Confederation of Wizards because he's getting old and losing his grip, bit it's not true, he was voted out by presumably British Ministry wizards after he made a speech announcing Voldemort's return. One would hope that someone from a different country would know to at least listen to Dumbledore over Fudge since Dumbledore's just one of those guys probably even in other countries; after all, it wasn't just British people he was addressing. On the other hand, however, it didn't seem like we had any outside help during the last war so it might be par for the course for other nations to ignore our pleas for help. Humanity's awesome like that, you know."

Why can't most people get voted out of something and have it be reasoned as they're getting old and losing their grip. Like Congress, for example. :(

* * *

"The Order is comprised only of overage wizards," said Lupin. "Wizards who have left school," he added, as Fred and George opened their mouths. "There are dangers involved of which you can have no idea, any of you…"

"Anything worse than having to face and kill a basilisk?" said Harry swiftly. "Or continuously facing and escaping from Voldemort himself?"

"…You know what, sign here."

"Boo-yah."

* * *

"I want you all to go straight to bed, no talking," said Mrs. Weasley as they reached the first landing. "We've got a busy day tomorrow. I expect Ginny's asleep," she added to Hermione, "so try not to wake her up."

"Asleep, yeah, right," said Fred in an undertone, after Hermione bade them good night and they were climbing to the next floor. "If Ginny didn't grab for the Extendable Ears we snuck into her room last week as soon as Mum went back downstairs and had already heard absolutely everything, then I'm a flobberworm…"

* * *

"But there can't be anything worse than the _Avada Kedavra_ curse," said Ron. "What's worse than death?"

"The Cruciatus Curse and the Dementor's Kiss, to name a few," replied Harry promptly.

"If you say so."

"I do say so."

"Maybe it's something that can kill leads of people at once," suggested George.

"Okay, you lot _cannot_ be so ignorant that you don't know about biological warfare, blitzkriegs, _nuclear fucking warfare, _or other numerous ways that Muggles have long since mastered to murder hundreds of thousands of people at once," spat Harry disdainfully. "Also how do wizards not even have magical equivalents of bombs, is it only 'lowly Muggles' who have international wars or what, I _refuse_ to believe that this is the case."

* * *

"Joke shop still on, then?" Harry muttered, pretending to be adjusting the nozzle on his spray.

"Well, we haven't had a chance to get premises yet," said Fred, dropping his voice even lower as Mrs. Weasley mopped her brow with her scarf before returning to the attack, "so we're running it as a mail-order service at the moment. We put advertisements in the _Daily Prophet_ last week."

"All thanks to you, mate," said George. "But don't worry…Mum hasn't got a clue. She won't read the _Daily Prophet_ anymore, 'cause of it telling lies about you and Dumbledore."

Harry grinned, but soon frowned as he realized that what followed in the narrative was one of the more blatant bits of recapping information from other books. Thus far, _Order of the Phoenix_ had been rather subtle about it, which was a HUGE relief to those who had spent the past three years feverishly rereading the first four books anyway, but occasionally the narrative felt the need to relapse to its old tricks from the previous three books. What made this particular passage even more insulting to the fans was that it spelt out and simplified what the twins and Harry were just talking about, so it was doubly needless repetition.

* * *

"I think we'll tackle _those_ after lunch."

Mrs. Weasley pointed at the dusty glass-fronted cabinets standing on either side of the mantelpiece. They were crammed with an odd assortment of objects: a selection of rusty daggers, claws, a coiled snakeskin, a number of tarnished silver boxes inscribed with languages Harry could not understand and, lease pleasant of all, an ornate crystal bottle with a large opal set into the stopper, full of what Harry was quite sure was blood. So it was completely understandable why one would want to try cleaning up that stuff immediately after they'd just eaten.

"Wait, you won't let us hear about You-Know-Who may or may not be up to but you'll let us attempt to tackle clearly Dark objects that none of us have any experience with and could probably kill us all?" said Fred incredulously.

"Well I do need all the help I can get to make this place at least semi-fit to live in—"

"Amen to that," grumbled Sirius.

"—and you're the only help I've got," said Mrs. Weasley, shrugging.

* * *

"The Mudblood is talking to Kreacher as though she is my friend, if Kreacher's Mistress saw him in such company, oh what would she say—"

"Don't call her a Mudblood!" said Ron and Ginny together, very angrily and a little late.

"It doesn't matter," Hermione whispered, "he's not in his right mind, he doesn't know what he's—"

"Are you going to use that excuse for every pure-blood bigot who talks like that?" said Fred, eyeing Kreacher with great dislike. "Because…You know what, try it, I would pay to see dear old Draco's reaction to you implying that he wasn't in his right mind."

* * *

"Kreacher would never move anything from its proper place in Master's house," said the elf, then muttered very fast, "Mistress would never forgive Kreacher if the tapestry was thrown out, seven centuries it's been in the family, Kreacher must save it, Kreacher will not let Master and the blood traitors and the brats destroy it—"

"I thought it might be that," said Sirius, casting a disdainful look at the opposite wall. "She'll have put another Permanent Sticking Charm on the back of it, I don't doubt, but if I can get rid of it I certainly will. Or maybe I'll just paint over it or cover it up with something…Hell, why don't I paint over my dear mother's portrait, how come I've not thought of easy solutions to dumb things…Or I could just remove the wall, I think I saw that in a fic once, can't believe I'm not even trying this stuff, I have unlimited time to think in here…Bloody Permanent Sticking Charm on the curtain so it's always covering her no matter what, that's at least using magic like we're programmed to always do at all times, I am the dumbest idiot…"

* * *

"He was younger than me," said Sirius. "And a much better son, as I was constantly reminded."

"Bill, Charlie, and Percy are so much better than you will ever be," Fred muttered under his breath, and George and Ron nodded grimly.

"Why aren't we saying anything in this section, anyway?" asked Ginny. "Mum could've come back with lunch earlier and nothing would've changed."

"But he died," said Harry to Sirius, ignoring everything.

"Yeah," said Sirius. "Stupid idiot…"

"And you know of any smart ones?"

"Quiet you."

* * *

"Was he killed by an Auror?" Harry asked tentatively.

"Oh no," said Sirius. "No, he was murdered by Voldemort. Or on Voldemort's orders, more likely…where the balls did I get my information, he went fucking _missing_ after goin' nuts, what the hell."

* * *

"I see Tonks isn't on here. Maybe that's why Kreacher won't take orders from her — he's supposed to do whatever anyone in the family asks him…"

"But if he doesn't take orders from anyone not on the tapestry, why does he take orders from you?" asked Harry.

"…I suspect it might have something to do with the part where I have a penis," said Sirius after a moment.

"Oh, okay then."

"Also maybe because I was never properly convicted? My accounts sure as hell weren't frozen, I bought that Firebolt for you somehow."

"Why is everything super unclear."

* * *

"It's ideal for headquarters, of course," Sirius said. "My father put every security measure known to Wizard-kind on it when he lived here. It's Unplottable, so Muggles could never come and call — as if they'd wanted to — and now Dumbledore's added his protection, you'd be hard put to find a safer house anywhere."

"Which is why he stuck me at the place where I was easily attacked by dementors," said Harry dryly.

"Let's face it, kid, he's not that smart."

* * *

They found an unpleasant-looking silver instrument, something like a many-legged pair of tweezers, which scuttled up Harry's arm like a spider when he picked it up, and attempted to puncture his skin; Sirius seized it and smashed it with a heavy book entitled _Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy_. There as a musical box that emitted a faintly sinister, tinkling tune when wound, and they all found themselves becoming curiously weak and sleepy until Ginny had the sense to slam the lid shut; also a heavy locket that none of them could open, a number of ancient seals and, in a dusty box, an Order of Merlin, First Class, that had been awarded to Sirius's grandfather for "Services to the Ministry."

"It means he gave them a load of gold," said Sirius contemptuously, throwing the medal into the rubbish sack.

Several times, Kreacher sidled into the room and attempted to smuggle things away under his loincloth, muttering horrible curses every time they caught him at it. When Sirius wrestled the locket from his grip Kreacher actually burst into furious tears, begging Sirius, "Master must give back Master Regulus's locket, Kreacher hasn't been able to destroy it yet, no matter how hard Kreacher has tried he could not do it, oh what would Master Regulus say…"

"Hold on a moment," said Sirius, bending down to Kreacher's level. "This was Regulus's? Wow, he had bad taste…Wait, did you say he ordered you to _destroy_ it?"

"It's the reason Master Regulus is dead, oh my poor Master, Kreacher has failed you, Kreacher is sorry, Kreacher has failed…"

"…Kreacher," said Sirius firmly, "I order you to tell me the story behind this locket."

And so everyone learned about what an actual cool guy Regulus was, and Ron prompted Harry to try speaking Parseltonge to it, and the drawing room basically exploded as the Horcrux started shouting shit at Kreacher, and eventually Dumbledore got called in and he beat it up with the Sword of Gryffindor and turned and left in a considerably good mood, and everyone was wondering what the fuck had just happened but from that moment on Kreacher was a lot nicer now that his main goal in life had been fulfilled, and he was much more cheerful for it and even helped them clean the house as long as Sirius let him keep a couple of mementos, which Sirius agreed to readily enough, amazed at this new change Kreacher had undergone.

* * *

The china, which bore the Black crest and motto, was all thrown unceremoniously into a sack by Sirius, and the same fate met a set of old photographs in tarnished silver frames, all of whose occupants squealed shrilly as the glass covering them smashed, which shouldn't have happened because only wizarding portraits can make noise, right? And also why didn't Sirius give all this crap to Dung to sell and help fund the Order, Invisibility Cloaks can't come cheap and would always be useful.

* * *

Lupin, who was staying in the house with Sirius, PROBABLY BECAUSE HE WAS DIRT POOR, COULDN'T GET A JOB, AND DIDN'T HAVE ANYWHERE ELSE TO GO, but who left it for long periods of time to do mysterious work for the Order that we now know had nothing to do with Greyback until next year so who knows what the bloody hell he was doing, helped them repair a grandfather clock that had developed a nasty habit of shooting heavy bolts at passersby. Why would a magical clock that was probably built with magical magic require bolts of any kind.

* * *

Harry felt as though a brick had dropped into his stomach when Mrs. Weasley turned to him during dinner on Wednesday evening, which was also Ginny's birthday but no one gave a shit, and said quietly, "I've ironed your best clothes for tomorrow morning, Harry, and I want you to wash your hair tonight too. A good first impression can work wonders, which is why you should only wash your hair and not the rest of you because we magical folk do love us some stinky dudes."

"Mrs. Weasley," said Harry shortly, momentarily dredging up something that had been brought up in a previous parody, "I've told you before that I don't appreciate you going through my things without my knowledge. I'd really prefer it of you adhere to my wishes concerning my property, which is neither yours nor any of your children's, from now on."

"But you're _like_ my son, though!"

"Still doesn't give you the right."

"I DON'T LIKE BASHING MOLLY!" wailed iheartmwpp, sniffling loudly.

* * *

"What do you want, Harry?" Mrs. Weasley called. "Porridge? Muffins? Kippers? Bacon and eggs? Toast?"

"I kind of want to know why I'm wearing a T-shirt and jeans," said Harry. "You said you washed my best clothes, I expected to have to wear my dress robes today."

"Well, Arthur thought it would be more fitting that you dress like a Muggle today, given what you're being charged for, you understand."

"I suppose…I didn't even know I had decent Muggle clothes, even what I'm wearing should be at least three sizes too big for me or something, when would I ever have found the time to pick up clothes that aren't school robes?"

"Weren't you left alone for two weeks the summer before your third year where you could go wherever you wanted?"

"Yeah, in Diagon Alley, which would never sell Muggle clothes probably since y'all insist on never wearing trousers ever."

* * *

"You don't normally walk to work, do you?" Harry asked Mr. Weasley, as they set off briskly around the square.

"No, I usually Apparate," said Mr. Weasley, "but obviously you can't, and me taking you there with Side-Along Apparition would just be silly and not time-efficient whatsoever, and I think it's best we arrive in a thoroughly non-magical fashion…makes a better impression, given what you're being charged for…"

* * *

"Where are we?" said Mr. Weasley blankly, and for one heart-stopping moment Harry thought they had gotten off at the wrong station despite Mr. Weasley's continual references to the map; but a second later he said, "Ah yes…this way, Harry," and led him down a side road.

"Sorry," he said, "but I never come by train and it all looks rather different from a Muggle perspective. As a matter of fact I've never even used the visitor's entrance before, and at a time when if we're late it could be extremely detrimental to whether or not you're allowed to still go to school _might _not have been the best time to experiment."

"So using Floo Powder—"

"The Floo Network's watching everything, I've told you this."

"So using the Knight Bus to get here or else using it or brooms or _Side-Along Apparition_ to travel to the Burrow last night so we could use Floo Powder to get to the Ministry in a timely and stress-free fashion was completely out of the question, then."

"Well of course, my boy!"

"I think I hate you."

* * *

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business."

"Er…" said Mr. Weasley, clearly uncertain whether he should talk into the receiver or not; maybe he should've asked someone precisely how this worked before he was in danger of getting his son's friend expelled; he compromised by holding the mouthpiece to his ear, "Arthur Weasley, Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office, here to escort Harry Potter, who has been asked to attend a disciplinary hearing…"

"Thank you," said the cool female voice. "Visitor, please take the badge and attach it to the front of your robes."

There was a click and a rattle, and Harry saw something slide out of the metal chute where returned coins usually appeared. He picked it up: It was a square silver badge with _Harry Potter, Disciplinary Hearing_ on it. He slipped it into the pocket of his jeans.

"…Harry, you're supposed to pin it to your shirt," said Mr. Weasley slowly, staring at him as though he'd gone mad.

"No it didn't," Harry replied calmly, "it said for me to attach it to the front of my robes, and I'm not wearing robes."

"You catty bitch!"

"X3"

* * *

What would've happened if, for fear of being expelled and losing his best defense against Voldemort, Harry deliberately left his wand at home to make absolutely certain that it wouldn't be snapped?

* * *

As they passed the fountain Harry saw silver Sickles and bronze Knuts glinting up at him from the bottom of the pool. A small, smudged sign beside it read:

_All proceeds from the Fountain of Magical Brethren will be given to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries_

_Ah shit, I didn't think to bring my money bag since we're here to see if I'm expelled or not and we're not about to go shopping for any reason because that's really not important right now,_ Harry found himself thinking weirdly.

* * *

Harry found himself jammed against the back wall of the lift. Several witches and wizards were looking at him curiously; he stared at his feet to avoid catching anyone's eye, flattening his fringe as he did so. Then they looked at his badge and gaped at him anyway, and Harry cursed himself for not thinking to cross his arms as well.

* * *

Once again the lift doors opened and four or five witches and wizards got out; at the same time, several paper airplanes swooped into the lift. Harry stared up at them as they flapped idly around above his head; they were a pale violet color and he could see MINISTRY OF MAGIC stamped along the edge of their wings.

"Just Interdepartmental memos," Mr. Weasley muttered to him. "We used to use owls, but the mess was unbelievable…droppings all over the desks…that is to say our offices were engulfed in their fecal matter…the fumes from the piles of their excrement were overwhelming in poorly ventilated areas—"

"OKAY that's enough."

"You sure?"

"Quite."

* * *

As the female voice went on describing the layout of level five for three additional hours, one frustrated witch on the other side of Mr. Weasley yelled out, "Why are we being told what's on which floor when we work here and should know perfectly well by now? What's wrong with a normal plaque that Harry can just casually glance at, what if we're in a hurry and don't have _time_ to listen to all of the crap that's on each floor before the doors _finally_ open?!" Everyone looked at her oddly.

* * *

"Level four, Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, incorporating Beast, Being, and Spirit Divisions, Goblin Liaison Office, supposedly also containing the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures considering it doesn't appear to be anywhere else, and Pest Advisory Bureau."

* * *

"Why have they changed the time?" Harry said breathlessly as they hurtled past the Auror cubicles; people poked out their heads and stared as they streaked past. Harry felt as though he had left all his insides back at Perkins's desk.

"I've no idea, but thank goodness we got here so early, if you'd missed it it would have been catastrophic!"

Mr. Weasley skidded to a halt beside the lifts and jabbed impatiently at the down button.

"Fortunately we can teleport, so there's no danger of ever arriving any place late ever."

"Brilliant, can we Side-Along Apparate to other sections of the Ministry beside just the Atrium, 'cause that'll probably really help loads—"

"Now shut up and ride your elevator."

"Okay, they _will_ need to put me in Azkaban for something much worse than I'm currently being charged for if this keeps up, arsewipe."

* * *

Harry's heart was beating a violent tattoo against his Adam's apple—wait, does that mean his voice finally dropped this year? Huh, cool. When's Ron's or anyone else's gonna do that? Hello? Ms. Rowling? _Hellooo?_

* * *

_A/N: So all of the people I either love or don't mind so much are all-around terrible people in this book I guess. I think it's Umbridge, I think her very presence within any part of the text itself just brings out the worst in everyone else involved in it. Which would also explain Remus and Ron's dickish behaviors in DH. Hurrah. I am so overjoyed. _-_-

_And I know I'm gonna get crap for not including anything about the forty-line stare, but I've already addressed it elsewhere (and it can even be found on AO3 now since that particular parody's been deleted from this site) where I feel that Remus thought he needed to keep an eye on Sirius in case he jumped over the table to rip Molly's throat out. Which he might've almost done, really._

_**Review or the worst decoration or poster or whatever you've ever put on your wall will **_**never come off it.**


	3. This Justice System's Brilliant Ain't It

_A/N: Mother person's sister visiting today. She's basically a half-as-old Aunt Muriel. I kinda wanna crawl under my bed and hide there all day. Worst part of the holiday season for me, right here. I know that's small potatoes compared to other crap in the world but that's not gonna make me not feel shitty about it, sorry. You know, it's kinda funny, if you celebrate Christmas at least in the States then as kids you were taught to not lie and be good so Santa would bring you things, but then on Christmas Eve when we were forced to go to the mother person's side of the family's get-together I was told to lie through my teeth to everyone and pretend to like both the shit presents and the shit relatives who always treat my folks like shit, and somehow this didn't count and maybe Santa would even give me something a little extra for being such a lying sack of shit. I'm saying everything's made of fecal matter. And now even though I'm a grown-ass adult I'm still not allowed to tell the truth, 's great. Which is why I rant on places they'll never read and everyone else skips. HOORAY!_

_On that note, HAPPY/MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY HANUKKAH EVEN THOUGH IT'S ALREADY OVER AND HAPPY KWANZAA AND HAPPY WINTER SOLSTICE AND HAPPY WHATEVER ELSE DOESN'T OFFEND YOU AND THAT I'VE LEFT OUT BECAUSE I'M TOO IGNORANT TO KNOW ANY OTHERS! HAVE A DUMB EARLY PRESENT THING!_

**Disclaimer:** Today's review threat was brought to you by Dndchk, and a couple of ideas were brought to you in part by Kitty279 and probably Dracarot again, I'm beginning to lose track, sorry. Also blatant stealing from Rifftrax and_ Naruto: The Abridged Comedy Fandub Spoof Series Show_, plus mentions of _Scooby Doo_, _Sweeney Todd_, and some book series about some dude with glasses or something, Iunno, I wasn't really paying attention.

* * *

A cold male voice rang across the courtroom.

"You're late."

"Sorry," said Harry nervously. "I-I didn't know the time had changed."

"That is not the Wizengamot's fault," said the voice. "A letter was sent to you this morning. Take your seat."

"Isn't it your fault for not making sure I got the message?"

"NOPE."

"Joy."

* * *

"Disciplinary hearing of the twelfth of August," said Fudge in a ringing voice, and Percy began taking notes at once, "into offenses committed under the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery and the International Statute of Secrecy by Harry James Potter—"

"I have a _middle name?"_ Harry gasped in shock. "Why didn't anyone ever tell me?!"

* * *

"—Witness for the defense, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore," said a quiet voice from behind Harry, who turned his head so fast he cricked his neck.

"Bwian, eh?" said Fudge.

"No no, _Brian."_

* * *

"Fully aware that you were in close proximity to a Muggle at the time?"

"One who already knew about magic so there's got to be some kind of loophole that says that's not as bad, and besides, I only used it because we were—"

* * *

"Don't you see, Amelia?" said Fudge, still smirking. "Let me explain. He's been thinking it through and decided dementors would make a very nice little cover story, very nice indeed. Muggles can't see dementors, can they, boy?"

"They can't?"

"…No, they can't, we know you know this."

"No, I just found out now."

"…Clearly another tale he's just created for this highly convenient story of his…so it's just your word and no witnesses…"

"I'm not lying!" said Harry loudly, over another outbreak of tittering from the court. "Why else would anyone perform a Patronus Charm in the first place unless they were being attacked by either a dementor or a lethifold?" He paused. "Also I've saved the school four times and have a flawless record of standing for truth and justice."

"LIES! LIES AND BLASPHEMY!"

Dumbledore cleared his throat. The Wizengamot fell silent again.

"We do, in fact, have a witness to the presence of dementors in that alleyway," he said.

Fudge's plump face seemed to slacken, as though somebody had let air out of it. He stared down at Dumbledore for a moment or two, then, with the appearance of a man pulling himself back together, said, "We haven't got time to listen to more taradiddles, I'm afraid, Dumbledore. I want this dealt with quickly—"

"I may be wrong," said Dumbledore pleasantly, "but I am sure that under the Wizengamot Charter of Rights, the accused has the right to present witnesses for his or her case? Isn't that the policy of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Madam Bones?" he continued, addressing the witch in the monocle.

"True," said Madam Bones. "Perfectly true."

"But apparently not the right to counsel."

"What the fuck is that shit."

"Oh dear."

"Oh, very well, very well," snapped Fudge. "Where is this person?"

"I brought him with me," said Dumbledore. "He's just outside the door. Should I—?"

"No — Weasley, you go," Fudge barked at Percy, who got up at once, hurried down the stone steps from the judge's balcony, and hastened past Dumbledore and Harry without glancing at them.

A moment later, Percy returned, followed by Dudley Dursley. He his gaze darted around the courtroom in abject fear as he firmly held his fists at his sides, though Harry could see them twitch as if desperately wanting to cover his backside. Dumbledore stood up and guided Dudley gently to his own chair, conjuring a second one for himself. After recovering from his shock at seeing a chair appear out of thin air, Dudley glanced at Harry out of the corner of his eye and grimaced at him. Harry gaped at him. Just what did Dumbledore do to get Dudley to agree to do this?

"Oh come now!" Fudge exploded, making Dudley squeak and jump in fright, immediately sitting on his hands. "Muggles can't see dementors, Dumbledore, we just went through this!"

"I am well aware of that," said Dumbledore, putting a hand gently on Dudley's shoulder. "However, as I'm sure you know, sight is not necessarily the only sense that humans possess, and in fact recent research shows that eyewitness accounts can often be misinterpreted or incorrectly recollected, and that cues taken from other senses such as sounds and smells actually stay in a person's memory longer. Recent as in probably early twenty-first century but whatever."

"Very well," said Madam Bones before Fudge can retort; he shot her a look of utmost loathing before clearing his throat and glaring down at Dudley instead.

"Full name? said Fudge loudly.

"D-Dudley Daniel Dursley," said Dudley nervously, using the fake middle name I'd given him for no raisin.

"Fine, then," Fudge said coolly. "What's your story?"

Dudley fidgeted a little before he began.

"I was hanging about with my mates and started heading home about nine," he mumbled, looking anywhere but Fudge and the rest of the Wizengamot. "Met up with Harry on the way and we took a shortcut down an alley…we were talking, and suddenly it got really dark. And it had been boiling all day and suddenly it was cold for no reason, and I sort of thought Harry was the one doing it at first, 'cause I'd been kind of teasing him about having nightmares, or something…I couldn't see anything, it was really dark…

"Started hearing…_things_…inside my head," Dudley went on, shuddering slightly. "I told Harry to stop it, he said he wasn't doing anything, then I punched him and ran…Harry shouted that I was running right at one of those…those _things_, and I did hear a sort of messed-up breathing noise but I just wanted to get away from Harry…Then I tripped, and Harry told me to keep my mouth shut, so I put my arms over my face…and there were these…" Dudley shivered and broke off.

"Yes?" Madam Bones prompted, not unkindly, her eyes widened slightly. Harry could see red marks under her eyebrow where the monocle had dug into it.

"These…These _hands_ were trying to…to move my arms away from my face," Dudley continued in almost a whisper, visibly trembling. "They felt c-cold and dead, and skin was peeling and—" He broke off, shaking more violently, and took a deep breath before plowing on. "And the voices were just g-getting louder all the time — but then I saw a white light through my arms, and suddenly it all stopped and it was warm again, so I guess Harry stopped them at that point, but I was kind of out of it at that point so Harry had to drag me home, I don't really remember the trip back." Dudley let out a breath of relief at having finished his story and slumped back in his chair.

Madam Bones looked down at Dudley in silence; Fudge was not looking at him at all, but fidgeting with his papers. Finally he raised his eyes and said, rather aggressively, "That's what you experienced, is it?"

Dudley jolted upright in his chair again and nodded fearfully.

"Very well," Fudge spat contemptuously. "You may go."

Dudley cast a frightened look from Fudge to Dumbledore, the latter of which nodded kindly to him, then got up and walked quickly toward the door again, looking back at Harry a couple of times as he went. Harry heard the door thud shut behind him.

"Not a very convincing witness," said Fudge loftily.

"Oh, I don't know," said Madam Bones in her booming voice. "He certainly described the effects of a dementor attack very accurately. And I can't imagine why he would say they were there if they weren't."

"I've got another witness I can bring in, if you want!" said Dumbledore cheerfully.

"Oh for Merlin's sake!" yelled Fudge, throwing his papers down in front of him.

"Bring him in," said Madam Bones, shooting Fudge an amused look. Dumbledore obliged and got up to go to the door.

A moment later, Dumbledore returned, followed by Mrs. Figg. She looked more batty than ever. Harry wished she had thought to change out of her carpet slippers. Maybe if Dumbledore had prepped her better; he had _one_ job!

* * *

"A Squib, eh?" said Fudge, eyeing Mrs. Figg closely. "We'll be checking that. You'll leave details of your parentage with my assistant, Weasley. Incidentally, can Squibs see dementors?" he added, looking left and right along the bench where he sat.

"No we can't," Mrs. Figg admitted, "but we can still feel the effects and I still saw the two boys falling over and try to fight back."

"Very well, please proceed," said Madam Bones before Fudge could say anything. He shot her a dirty look.

* * *

Hey Dumbledore, how 'bout coaching Mrs. Figg better so she doesn't fuck it up if you insist on making her lie in court. You had over a week, doucheface.

* * *

Hey, cool, an evil bitch from the depths of hell itself if not lower. LET'S MAKE HER AS HIDEOUS AS POSSIBLE, THAT WAY WE'LL KNOW SHE'S EVIL BECAUSE UGLY PEOPLE CAN NEVER BE DECENT HUMAN BEINGS, ESPECIALLY IF THEY'RE FEMALE. Also Scooby Doo logic immediately dictates that she totally sent the dementors on Harry. We realize only upon subsequent rereads. :/

* * *

"I suppose you've forgotten the Hover Charm the boy used three years ago!" said Fudge at the top of his voice.

"If the Trace holds any relevance at all, you'd know that that wasn't me!" said Harry.

"Well who was it then?" said Fudge condescendingly.

"It was a house-elf!" said Harry. "I _told_ you this two years ago in the Leaky Cauldron, you accepted it then!"

"Well now I'm not," said Fudge triumphantly, and Harry had to grip the arms of his chair very tightly to keep himself from losing his temper.

* * *

"In your admirable battle to ensure that the law is upheld," said Dumbledore, "you appear, inadvertently I am sure, to have overlooked a few laws yourself."

"Laws can be changed," said Fudge savagely.

**"**You know, the argument I _should've _come up with at this point would be that you were willing to endanger other children just to continue to alienate this one child right here. What if an underage wizard was suddenly forbidden from using underage magic under _any_ circumstances and then suddenly found themselves faced by an armed robber, or an abusive family member who was about to take it too far, or Merlin knows what else, and there were no adult wizards around to protect them? The parents certainly wouldn't be very fond of you then, now would they? But who cares about them, we all know I only care about Harry anyway, so instead I'll bitch about you lot resorting to a full criminal trial for a simple matter of underage magic. Which, admittedly, is also extremely stupid."

* * *

"Well, well, well…Patronus Potter," said Lucius Malfoy coolly…which sounds like an awesome title, actually, _way_ better than the Boy Who Lived crap which won't really sound that great when the poor guy's in his thirties, and it's even based on something that Harry worked really hard to achieve and is something he can feel really proud of; I can't be the only one who wanted more out of that.

* * *

Sirius stop being a poo-head.

* * *

_Hermione_ stop being a poo-head.

* * *

"I feel like a house-elf," grumbled Ron.

"Why, they at least probably get to use magic to clean," said Harry before Hermione could say anything. Hermione gave him a dirty look.

* * *

On the very last day of the holidays Harry was sweeping up Hedwig's owl droppings from the top of the wardrobe when Ron entered their bedroom carrying a couple of envelopes.

"Booklists have arrived," he said, throwing one of the envelopes up to Harry, who was standing on a chair. "About time, I thought they'd forgotten, they usually come much earlier than this…"

"Does that mean first years didn't get their letters inviting them to Hogwarts until today either?" said Harry, staring at the envelope in his hands. "That doesn't give much time for Muggle-borns to acclimate to the knowledge that this whole new world exists, nor does it give their families much time to decide if they even want their kids to go or not. I mean, what if they already spent a crapload of their money so that their kid could go to some posh private school, or enrolled them in an exchange program outside the country even, and what if that school had started already and they suddenly had to yank their kid out so they could go somewhere else? Or do all schools open on the first of September in the UK, I can't believe how out of touch with the Muggle World I've become. Also, if that's the case, is every second of September a Monday for them like it is for us as well?"

"There's always the possibility that they already got their main letters inviting them to the school and the lists of supplies and things," suggested Ron, "and there was just a thing at the bottom that said they'd be getting a booklist eventually."

"Still makes it really inconvenient," said Harry, sweeping the last of the droppings into a rubbish bag and throwing the bag over Ron's head into the wastepaper basket in the corner, which swallowed it and belched loudly. "Now absolutely every family with a child of Hogwarts age is going to crowd into Flourish and Blotts, where there may well not be enough supplies to meet demand since this information is coming out so late. It's going to be an insane bloodbath comprised of first come, first serve." He paused. "So it's basically Black Friday, but with magic." He blinked as all of the implications that raised set in. "Oh God."

* * *

"We overheard Mum and Dad talking on the Extendable Ears a few weeks back," Fred told Harry, "and from what they were saying, Dumbledore was having real trouble finding anyone to do the job this year."

"Not surprising, is it, when you think about what's happened to the last four," said George. "And who cares what happened to the two before Quirrell that me and Fred know about, I guess."

"One sacked, one dead, one's memory removed, and one locked in a trunk for nine months," said Harry, counting off on his fingers. "Yeah, I see what you mean."

"Hey fuck you, man, I resigned!" said Lupin, sticking his head in the door.

"Are you even here right now?" said Harry, unfazed.

"I don't know."

* * *

"Ginny said the booklists had come at last," said Mrs. Weasley, glancing around at all the envelopes as she made her way over to the bed and started sorting the robes into two piles. "If you give them to me I'll take them over to Diagon Alley this afternoon and get your books while trying not to get super murdered by all the other crazy parents. Ron, I'll have to get you more pajamas, these are at least six inches too short, I can't believe how fast you're growing…nor do I believe that we can't just charm or transfigure clothes to fit or look newer, you'd think that with all this _magic_ we've got it would actually come in _useful_ occasionally…what color would you like?"

* * *

Mrs. Weasley let out a shriek just like Hernione's.

"I don't believe it! I don't believe it! Oh Ron, that's wonderful! A prefect! That's everyone in the family!"

"What are Fred and I, next-door neighbors?" said George indignantly, as his mother pushed him aside and flung her arms around her youngest son.

"I exist too, fuck-o!" cried Ginny as she passed the doorway.

"Are you talking to me or Mum?" asked George.

"Yes, said Ginny. "Also was Charlie a prefect?"

"No idea," said Fred. "Hell, were Mum and Dad even prefects."

"Shrug," shrugged George and Ginny in unison.

* * *

Ron had not asked Dumbledore to give him the prefect badge. This was not Ron's fault. Was he, Harry Ron's best friend in the world, going to sulk because he didn't have a badge, laugh with the twins behind Ron's back, ruin this for Ron when, for the first time, he had beaten Harry at something that wasn't chess?

* * *

Mrs. Weasley returned from Dagon Alley with her face black and blue, chunks of her hair pulled out, her arm in a sling, bleeding profusely from a wound in her side, and limping on a leg that had been transfigured into a massive turnip, laden with slightly mangled and torn-up books and carrying a long package wrapped in thick brown paper that Ron took from her with a moan of longing.

* * *

HOW DOES MAD-EYE KNOW WHAT A BOGGART LOOKS LIKE. DOES IT TRANSFORM INTO HIS WORST FEAR FROM THAT FAR AWAY OR CAN HIS EYE JUST SEE THE REAL THING FOR WHAT IT IS WHICH IS WHY EVERYONE WAITED SO LONG AND STUFF. WHY ISN'T REMUS ASKING ALL OF THE QUESTIONS RIGHT NOW IF THAT IS THE CASE, AND WHY IS IT NEVER BROUGHT UP ON POTTERMORE.

* * *

"I was never a prefect myself," said Tonks brightly from behind Harry as everybody moved toward the table to help themselves to food. Her hair was tomato-red and waist length today; she looked like Ginny's older sister. "My Head of House said I lacked certain necessary qualities."

"Like what?" said Ginny, who was choosing a baked potato.

"Like the ability to behave myself," said Tonks.

Ginny laughed; Hermione looked as though she did not know whether to smile or not and compromised by taking an extra large gulp of butterbeer and choking on it.

"Also I'd like to randomly add that my Patronus happens to be a jack rabbit," Tonks went on casually, ladling herself some onion soup.

Sirius spat out his own butterbeer and started cackling loudly, hunched over in his chair and beating the table with his fist while Lupin whipped his head around and stared at Tonks with his mouth agape.

"…What?" said Tonks slowly, glancing between Lupin and Sirius in concern.

"N-Nothing," stammered Lupin, his face turning bright red, as Sirius fell out of his chair and onto the floor, still laughing madly. Everyone backed away slowly.

* * *

Hermione was talking very earnestly to Lupin about her view of elf rights.

"I mean, it's the same kind of nonsense as werewolf segregation, isn't it? It all stems from this horrible thing wizards have of thinking they're superior to other creatures—"

"Yes, it _is_ horrible when someone believes that their knowledge of an 'Other's' situation is so profound and in-depth when they have never experienced such a thing themselves that they think _they_ can educate an 'Other' all about it," said Lupin dryly. "Please, tell me more about werewolf segregation and how it is exactly identical to the plight of a different race of beings that wizards can _actually stomach the sight of_, as _I_ certainly don't know enough about it."

Hermione turned pink and fell silent.

* * *

Harry took the photograph. A small crowd of people, some waving at him, others lifting their glasses, looked back up at him.

"There's me," said Moody unnecessarily, pointing at himself. The Moody in the picture was unmistakable, though his hair was slightly less gray and his nose was intact. Also he should've still had both his normal eyes by that point.

* * *

For one brief moment, the great black dog reared onto its — the fuck, _his _— hind legs and placed _his_ front paws on Harry's shoulders, but Mrs. Weasley shoved Harry away toward the train door hissing, "For heaven's sake, act more like a dog, Sirius!"

"But he totally is, though," said Tonks, frowning. "You're drawing way more attention to us than he is by acting like _this."_

"Quiet you."

* * *

But as Hermione and Ron dragged their trunks, Crookshanks, and a caged Pigwidgeon off toward the engine end of the train, Harry felt an odd sense of confusion. It didn't make any sense for them to drag all their possessions all throughout the train twice if they wouldn't be spending the entire trip in the prefects' meeting, so why didn't they find a compartment with Harry and Ginny and _then_ fuck off to their meeting?

* * *

"_You're _Harry Potter," said Luna dreamily.

"I know I am," said Harry.

Neville chuckled. Luna turned her pale eyes upon him instead.

"And I don't know who you are."

"I'm nobody," said Neville, "and nobody's perfect. Therefore, I am perfect."

"This is true," said Harry at the same time that Ginny said, "No arguments here." They looked at each other, blinked, and started furiously making out.

"Well that was weird," said Luna, munching on a goat leg while playing the tambourine with her spleen.

* * *

Oh _fuck_ you, Harry.

* * *

Be on the lookout for an eventual Sweeney Todd song parody starring Cornelius Fudge. That will not be on fanfiction dot net at _all. _;D

* * *

At last the train began to slow down and they heard the usual racket up and down it as everyone scrambled to get their luggage and pets assembled even though they should've been left on the train so it could be taken to the school separately but apparently the rules had changed because why not.

* * *

But as Ron continued to look bemused, a strange though occurred to Harry.

"Can't…can't you see them?"

"See _what?"_

"Can't you see what's pulling the carriages?"

Ron looked seriously alarmed now.

"Are you feeling all right, Harry?"

Harry stared at him, then grabbed Ron's arm once again and dragged him to the nearest winged horse, lifting Ron's hand for him and placing it on the horse's flank.

"Okay, mate, you are seriously starting to freak me HOLY SHIT WHAT AM I TOUCHING,"Ron yelled, his eyes moving rapidly as his hand slowly moved up and down the winged horse's flank.

"Oh good, they really are there," said Harry in relief, putting his own hand on the horse's side and rejoicing in how solid it felt. He blinked. "If not everyone can see them, how is no one walking into them all the time. Hell, how do they not at least see the vapor rising from their nostrils in the chilly night air, these things make no sense."

* * *

"It's all right," said a dreamy voice from beside Harry as Ron vanished into the coach's dark interior. "You're not going mad or anything. I can see them too."

"Can you?" said Harry desperately, turning to Luna. He could see the bat-winged horses reflected in her wide, silvery eyes.

"Oh yes," said Luna, "I've been able to see them ever since my first day here. And if you had bothered giving the _description_ of the anorexic horses to Hermione, she could probably have told you what they were. They've always pulled the carriages. You're just as sane as I am."

"…The _Fantastic Beasts_ section on winged horses really should've gone into more detail on these things. Also kids should probably be informed in the letter from Hogwarts or something in case their childhood wasn't as idyllic as people like to believe a child's life always is and they saw some serious shit go down that would result in them being able to see thestrals and therefore immediately be considered mad by their classmates who can't see them and thus resulting in them being horribly bullied probably throughout their entire school careers for being different."

"Tell me about it."

* * *

"Did everyone see that Grubbly-Plank woman?" asked Ginny. "What's she doing back here? Hagrid can't have left, can he?"

"I'll be quite glad if he has." said Luna. "He isn't a very good teacher, is he?"

"That period after the word 'has' should've been a comma!" said Harry, Ron, and Ginny angrily. "Also he totally is."

Harry glared at Hermione; she cleared her throat and quickly said, "Erm…yes…he's very good."

"Way to stick up for your mates, Hermione," muttered Ginny, shaking her head at her.

"Well, we think he's a bit of a joke in Ravenclaw," said Luna, unfazed.

"Yeah well you're no prize," Ron snapped, as the wheels below them creaked into motion. Harry reflected that he would have to find out what Cho's viewpoint was; if she too considered Hagrid to be little more than a joke, it might well be time to turn his interest elsewhere.

* * *

…Pinkish hues are supposed to be not very magical at all, Pottermore said so, why is Umbridge so obsessed with it? Because stereotypical signs of femininity is bad? Then why is it cool if it's Tonks's preferred hair color? MAKE UP YOUR MIND, WOMAN. Also why does one who despises Muggles so much insist on wearing Muggle-designed cardigans.

* * *

Gryffindor does not rhyme with Ravenclaw, dude. Also way to make Slytherin only care about blood and not about ambition, and way to make sure the Hufflepuffs know once and for all that they are indeed the leftovers of the magical community. Dick. Least you admit the whole Sorting process is kind of fucked up, so that's something I guess…Yes, I'm talking to a fictional hat as if it's a real thing, shut up.

* * *

"We have had two changes in staffing this year. We are very pleased to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank, who will be taking Care of Magical Creatures lessons; that should be _teaching_ the class, what the balls, she ain't taking shit; we are also delighted to introduce Professor Umbridge, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. She is here this year because she is so inconsequential to the Ministry that they can do entirely without her for a whole year."

* * *

Professor Umbridge's voice was high-pitched, breathy, and little-girlish and again, Harry felt a powerful rush of dislike that he could not explain to himself; all he knew was that he loathed everything about her, from her stupid voice to her fluffy pink cardigan. So basically everything that enhanced her femininity. I know Umbridge deserves all the hate but maybe it could be because she's the embodiment of all that is evil and not because she chooses to wear pink. Just sayin'. She gave another little thoat-clearing cough (_"Hem, hem"_) and continued: "Sorry, swallowed a dog toy. Well, it is lovely to be back at Hogwarts, I must say!" She smiled, revealing very pointed teeth. "And to see such happy little faces smiling up at me!"

Harry glanced around. None of the faces he could see looked happy; on the contrary, they all looked rather taken aback at being addressed as though they were five years old. This can happen sometimes in secondary education, though; occasionally you'll get that one art teacher in charge of a class of fourteen- to seventeen-year-olds, none of whom needed any kind of special needs education, and she'll spend the first lesson utterly convinced that none of them know how to make the color purple. True story, bro.

* * *

"Every headmaster and headmistress of Hogwarts has brought something new to the weighty task of governing this historic school, and that is as it should be, for without progress there would be stagnation and decay. There again, progress for progress's sake must be discouraged, for our tried and tested traditions often require no tinkering. Which is why we still knowingly enslave other humans of different skin colors and no one sees anything immoral about it; interracial marriages are still prohibited; Christianity is still the only religion allowed anywhere; homosexuality is still a mental disease; women are still property and can be traded for a goat and should never hold positions of power or be able to vote because their tiny little minds, so full of trivial things like housework and child-rearing and nothing else, would never be able to handle such complex things—Wait," Professor Umbridge cut herself off, staring at the floor in puzzlement.

* * *

He had been stupid not to expect this, he thought angrily, as he walked through much emptier upstairs corridors. Of course everyone was staring at him: He had emerged from the Triwizard maze two months ago clutching the dead body of a fellow student and claiming to have seen Lord Voldemort return to power. There had not been enough time last term to explain himself before everyone went home except he totally had over a week or two like always after the big event at the end of the school year, even if he had felt up to giving the whole school a detailed account of the terrible events in that graveyard.

He had reached the end of the corridor to the Gryffindor common room and had come to a halt in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady before he realized that he did not know the new password, despite spending half a train ride and a whole dinner with two of Gryffindor's prefects who could've told him at any time. What responsible role models they are. Dumbledore clearly made the right choice when picking the leaders of the student body for their age group.

* * *

Harry got into bed and made to pull the hanging closed around him, but before he could do so, Seamus said, "Look…what _did_ happen that night when…you know, when…with Cedric Diggory and all? I mean, it's not like we could see anything, considering that _no one was able to watch any of the third task in any way whatsoever,_ and besides I'd like to form my own opinion, so…"

Harry sighed and dropped the hangings.

"Well, when you put it like that…I don't want to be a dick and just shout in your face and insult your mother, after all, so…" He sighed. "If I tell you, can you spread it around for me so I don't have to rehash it?"

"YAY, STORY TIME!" cried Seamus, doing a happy spin dance of squee.

"YAY, I LOVE STORIES!" said Dean, getting comfortable on his bed and staring avidly at Harry with his elbows resting on his crossed legs.

"Okay, this is the story of how a very decent person died horribly and an insane murderer came back to murder more people."

"…YAAAY," said Dean.

"I hate happy endings," said Neville, adjusting the _Mimbulus mimbletonia_. "So cliché."

* * *

_A/N: Man, how awesome a Dumbledore would Peter O'Toole have made. And he would've lived through it, too. :'( RIP, dude._

_**Review or you'll be forced to wear Umbridge's cardigan.**_


	4. Umbridge Is SUCH A Joy To Work With

_A/N: Think this is the first time I've had to straight up delete a joke for being a song lyric even though it could totally be taken for actual text but I'm too paranoid from last time to include it. Enh, it's still online, just not here. Which is why I publish on AO3 about thirty seconds BEFORE this site anymore in any case, got way more freedom there, even if bolding and italicizing things is super frustrating compared to here. *shrug* Can't have everything, I guess._

**Disclaimer: **Straight-up cameos of Dracarot all up in this bitch, plus MOAR Kitty279 input of the How Did I Miss That variety. Also weird things happening with _Dragonball Z, the Shoebox Project, Star Trek: The Next Generation, Game of Thrones, Heavy Rain, A Series of Unfortunate Events, Annie, Pokémon,_ _A Very Potter Sequel, _and there _would_ be a reference to _A Very Potter Senior Year_ except that I'm not allowed to do certain things on this site no matter how minuscule they are so I put it on archiveofourown dot org instead under the same information as this site if anyone wants to know what one tiny little thing Ron said turns out to be. -_-

* * *

…You know, it's pretty fucking lucky that the Ministry didn't put out the story that _Harry_ actually killed Cedric and made up the whole Voldemort thing to cover _that_ up, think of how much _more_ difficult this year would've been. D:

* * *

"Does he think he'll turn into a nutter if he stays in a room with me too long?" asked Harry loudly, as the hem of Seamus's robes whipped out of sight.

"YEP!" called Seamus on his way down.

"…Oh."

"Actually I think he thinks you're a danger to yourself and others and you'll start madly attacking everyone in sight at any moment," said Dean cheerfully.

"…WELL GREAT."

* * *

"What are you still getting that for?" said Harry irritably, thinking of Seamus, as Hermione placed a Knut in the leather pouch on the owl's leg even though we know from the first book that the paper costs five though perhaps Hermione's getting a student discount and it took off again. "I'm not bothering…load of rubbish."

"It's best to know what the enemy are saying," said Hermione darkly.

"…Don't you mean what the _enemies_ are saying?" asked Harry.

"Or what the enemy _is_ saying?" asked Ron.

"DO NOT SPEAK OF WHAT YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND," said Hermione sweetly. Harry and Ron dove under the table and cowered in fright.

* * *

With all the poor grades History of Magic must continuously rake in due to nobody paying attention ever, why don't the school governors take the hint and force Dumbledore to just get bloody rid of Binns already? Or does everyone pass by the skin of their teeth because they just read the material out of the book and use that instead, in which case why bother even showing up to class; unless the professor outright asked for a minimum class participation, people skived off the less important and more book-oriented classes all the time in college. Especially if it was at eight in the morning. What kind of demon do these people live in fear of that they schedule World History at eight in the morning, it was the only time I ever fell asleep during a class in my life.

* * *

"After this year, of course, many of you will cease studying with me," Snape went on. "I take only the very best into my N.E.W.T. Potions class, which means that some of us will certainly be saying good-bye and even the above average may not be able to get the jobs they wanted because I really care about your futures like that. And yes, if you were wondering, very few Hufflepuffs have ever made it through to my N.E.W.T. Potions class since that House's basic definition these days is just about being average; sometimes you get a hard-enough worker in there to remind you of how the books used to be, but that was before the sudden shift in tone."

* * *

"Did you do everything on the third line, Potter?"

"No," said Harry quietly.

"I beg your pardon?"

"No," said Harry, more loudly. "I forgot the hellebore…"

"I know you did, Potter, which means that this mess is utterly worthless. _Evanesco."_

The contents of Harry's potion vanished; he was left standing foolishly beside an empty cauldron. Huh. Snape never vanished anyone's potion before, even though it's a spectacular way to humiliate his students. It's almost as if the spell didn't appear until now because this will conveniently be the year when Harry and the others will be learning it or something. -_-

* * *

_**THANK YOU, HARRY.**_

* * *

"Hermione and me have stopped arguing," said Ron, sitting down beside Harry.

"Until we meet up with her again, at least," grunted Harry.

"But Hermione says she thinks it would be nice if you stopped taking out your temper on us," said Ron.

"Especially when I'm in the right about something, right?" said Harry wearily.

"I'm just passing on the message," said Ron, talking over him. "But I reckon she's right. It's not our fault how Seamus and Snape treat you."

"You're just saying that because neither of you want to admit that you're wrong and that your constant arguing drives _everyone_ up the wall and I'm always in the middle and the instant I pick a side it's guaranteed I'll lose one of you," Harry defended himself.

"Dude, we're practicing for when we're married and fighting over whether or not we name our second child something exceptionally stupid."

"Which _one_ of you lost horribly," said Harry, smirking.

"Hey, least Hugo's still better than Albus _Severus,"_ Ron shot back.

"Which in itself is still better than Scorpius Hyperion," said Harry.

"This is true."

* * *

"I never remember my dreams," said Ron. "You say one."

"You must remember one of them," said Harry impatiently.

He was not going to share his dreams with anyone. He knew perfectly well what his regular nightmare about a graveyard meant, he did not need Ron or Professor Trelawney or the stupid _Dream Oracle_ to tell him that…Apparently bringing up the one about the corridor ending with a locked door was out of the question…

"Well, I had one where Krillin from _Dragonball Z_ and me were fighting something in a volcano and there was a pit of lava that blew up in our faces and Krillin got carried away by the waves of it when I was about eleven," said Ron, screwing up his face in an effort to remember. "What d'you reckon that means?"

"…That Krillin always loses?"

"Well, yeah, but we _know _that," said Ron impatiently. "What was with the volcano?"

"Iunno."

* * *

Yes, Harry, we know about the bow looking like a fly, do shut up.

* * *

"Why, I can't imagine any situation arising in my classroom that would require you to _use_ a defensive spell, Miss Granger," said Professor Umbridge. "You surely aren't expecting to be attacked during class?

"We're not going to use magic?" Ron ejaculated loudly. Heh heh, it's like sex.

"Students raise their hands when they wish to speak in my class, Mr.—?"

"Weasley," said Ron, thrusting his hand into the air. "And why are you trying to take away the wonder and whimsy of our secret society by taking away our magic? The only thing that separates us from Muggles? What you're implying is that you want all of us to live like Muggles once we leave school, which is contrary to absolutely everything your evil racist character that loathes everything to do with Muggles stands for. I mean, at the very least there are still bigoted pureblood students within the school who would willingly eat up the shit you're trying to spoon-feed us; are you saying you won't even teach _them_ anything?"

"Twelve billion points from Gryffindor."

"As I thought."

* * *

"You will be learning about defensive spells in a secure, risk-free way…Well, mostly risk-free, anyway, you still might get a paper cut, but after all, learning things from books is the safest method of learning there is. Books are entirely harmless, after all, which is why governments keep banning them. Also, this particular installment, being just shy of nine hundred pages in the US, can be used successfully as a bludgeoning tool, but that's neither here or there."

* * *

"Well, it's like Harry said, isn't it?" said Dean. "If we're going to be attacked, it won't be risk-free—"

"I repeat, said Professor Umbridge, smiling in a very irritating fashion at Dean, "do you expect to be attacked during my class?"

"Verbally, yes," Dean replied promptly. "It happens in roughly seventy-five percent of the rest of our classes, why should this be any exception?"

* * *

"And what good's theory going to be in the real world?" said Harry loudly, his fist in the air again.

Professor Umbridge looked up.

"This is school, Mr. Potter, not the real world," she said softly.

"But isn't the whole point of school to prepare us for the real world?" Harry spat.

"Of course not," said Professor Umbridge swiftly.

"You think school is merely about getting through a set of examinations?" shouted a random seventh year Slytherin, crashing the class and for some reason wearing a red _Next Generation_-era Starfleet uniform under his robes. "These students will become adults and need to be prepared for the responsibilities that ensues. School is about giving one the knowledge and critical thinking skills to actually function in the real world!"

"You're hilarious," giggled Umbridge sweetly. "Sure, most schools _claim_ to do that, but anyone who's graduated from most anywhere know that that's an outright lie and that no class they've ever taken has prepared them for any kind of real world experience whatsoever. We're just being honest about it!" she concluded cheerfully.

"…Well anyway, I have more to say," said the Slytherin, who was actually Dracarot cameoing again because he is good at saying things.

"Oh goody," said Umbridge glumly.

"Do you really think that simply because there is no threat outside the school that their is no need to learn defensive spells? That is foolish beyond compare! Whether Voldemort is back or not is actually irrelevant to the entire issue!"

"But he's not, though."

"Exactly! Still doesn't matter! Your Ministry is not some invincible protective Umbrella! And even if it was, the ones staffing it will _not_ live forever; every one of them will eventually be a corpse one day!"

"Aha!" cried Umbridge, standing up and pointing at Dracarot. "So you admit that you are on Dumbledore's side and you want everyone in the Ministry dead, do you?!"

"…I think he just meant that everyone is mortal," said iheartmwpp slowly, "WOW you jump to conclusions like whoa."

"Because you are making me with your typing-ness."

"Shaddup, it's in character."

"…So it is."

"And besides," Dracarot went on, ignoring all the things, "you're supposed to be preparing these students for the jobs they may well eventually have at _your_ Ministry, and if they're not qualified then the positions will be left empty and then we won't even _have_ a Ministry!"

"Eh, that's later, I'm only really concerned about what's happening now."

"Spoken like a true politician," muttered Harry under his breath, and Ron and Hermione had to bite their fingers to keep from laughing.

"Now kindly GTFO," said Umbridge politely, flicking her wand so the door behind Dracarot opened.

"Okay, fine, whatever, _but I'll be back!"_ Dracarot left with an epic musical fanfare of _The Rains of Castamere _heralding his exit. That's from another book series, I should be fine, hopefully.

"…Dafuq was that," said Seamus.

"That was the rare decent Slytherin," said Lavender, gaping at the door Dracarot had just existed in wonder.

* * *

"Who do you imagine wants to attack children like yourselves?" inquired Professor Umbridge in a horribly honeyed voice.

"Pedophiles?" Parvati spoke up, sticking her hand in the air.

"Kidnappers?" said Seamus, putting up his own hand.

"Abusive relatives?" said Harry, who'd kept his hand up this whole time.

"Murderers who don't care who their victims are or who specialize in murdering children, like the Origami Killer?" Neville tremulously spoke up, copying the others.

"Count Olaf?" Violet, Klaus, and Sunny cameoed.

"Most fictional and a lot of real children's homes in general?" said Annie.

"There are Muggle policemen for a reason," said Hermione, who had also kept her hand up for the duration of this tangent, "and I'm sure Aurors and the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol serve the same purpose in this world. Children are rarely as safe as people like to believe, you know."

"Also _Lord Freakin' Voldemort,_ even if he's not back, which he totally is, tried to murder me when I was one, and I'm sure he's not the only psychopath to have attempted this and possibly succeeded," Harry added, glaring at Umbridge. "We really need all the help we can get."`

"NONE OF THESE THINGS EXIST AND ALL OF YOU ARE HORRIBLE LIARS," Umbridge simpered cheerfully.

"We don't like you very much."

* * *

…Shit. Umbridge and the Ministry are kind of right about Harry constantly lying. _Pettigrew_ killed Cedric, not Voldemort. Though granted it was on Voldemort's orders and trying to convince people that another supposedly long dead wizard is also walking about would probably be even harder so maybe simplifying things _was_ the best move to make…

* * *

"Look, you don't understand what it was like after it happened," said Hermione quietly. "You arrived back in the middle of the lawn, clutching Cedric's dead body…None of us saw what happened in the maze, it was the most boring task ever, Seamus was complaining the whole time, said it was even worse than the second task because even though everyone was at least warmer this time the third task was supposed to be the big climax so we should've had something far more exciting…We just had Dumbledore's word for it that You-Know-Who had come back and killed Cedric and fought you."

"And Dumbledore's word is usually something that everyone in the Wizarding World accepts without question as he's basically Wizard Jesus," said Harry, "so what changed?"

"People don't want to deal with hard crap sometimes," said Ron, shrugging.

"Well this whole book is bullshit."

"Pretty much."

* * *

"You're leaving out hats for house-elves?" said Ron slowly. "And you're covering them up with rubbish first?"

"Yes," said Hermione defiantly, swinging her bag onto her back.

"That's not on," said Ron angrily. "You're trying to trick them into picking up the hats. You're setting them free when they might not want to be free."

"Would that even work, though?" said Harry before Hermione could retort. "Don't they have to be presented clothes by their _masters?_ I don't really think students count as such. And what if a student hanging about in the common room is warmed by the fire and takes their jumper off and just leaves it there, if the house-elf picks _that_ up I doubt they'd be freed then either."

"And I don't even think hats count as clothing, now that I think about it," said Ron, stroking his chin. "Don't most people just think they're accessories? Can someone free a house-elf with a wrist bracelet?"

"Still kind of wondering how house-elves do laundry," Harry admitted.

"I kind of loathe you two right now," said Hermione casually.

"Another thing," said Ron, turning his attention back to Hermione. "Where are all these house-elves supposed to go once they're freed, assuming this even works? Do you have any plans or ideas for where they should go or were you just going to let them fend for themselves and perhaps starve to death somewhere since it's unlikely that anyone'll take an elf that had been sacked from Hogwarts of all places."

"Oh I'm sure they'll go back to Dumbledore immediately, begging for their old jobs back," said Harry swiftly. "And of course he will because sometimes he really is an awesome person like that. And then there's every chance he might figure out what was going on and ask you to stop," he finished, also looking at Hermione. "Would you stop if it was Dumbledore telling you to?"

"Oh most definitely," said Hermione immediately, not a trace of regret on her face.

"Of course you would," Ron muttered grumpily.

* * *

Ron rolled up the parchment on which he had written the title of Snape's essay. "There's no point trying to finish this now, I can't do it without Hermione, I haven't got a clue what you're supposed to do with moonstones and there's absolutely no reason to go to a library or check with Professor Oak, is there?"

* * *

"Dumbledore would know if something had happened to Hagrid," said Hermione at once. "It's just playing into Malfoy's hands to look worried, it tells him we don't know exactly what's going on. We've got to ignore him, Harry, since that's worked out so well the last four years we've continuously failed at doing , hold the bowtruckle for a moment, just so I can draw its face..."

"I can't do that, I have to finish it before the class is over too, you know; besides, you can't even draw!"

"Oh I hate you so much right now."_  
_

"It's okay, Hermione," said Ron, grinning, "if you check this story out again on the Archive Of Our Own website, you'll be able to see the reference I made here."

"Oh, I went to look at it, and I _totally_ saw what you did there," said Harry, smirking as Hermione smiled radiantly at Ron.

* * *

I love how Hermione, a girl who was constantly made fun of for not being like the other girls and had no friends before Harry and Ron, immediately picks on another girl just because she's a bit different and probably has no friends, it's great.

* * *

Oh, is Lavender's last name really Brown? I hadn't noticed that yet after five books, thanks for that.

* * *

Again and again Harry wrote the words on the parchment in what he soon came to realize was not ink, but his own blood. And again and again the words were cut into the back of his hand, healed, and then reappeared the next time he set quill to parchment. And again and again he apparently managed to keep his handwriting _exactly the same each time he wrote_, which is kind of impossible no matter how hard you try especially if you start getting tired or are in pain, apparently for fear of adding layers upon layers of scars into his hand. What if he messed up a word or his hand slipped, would that show up on the back of his hand eventually too?

* * *

…Did Ron and Harry not tell Hermione about Harry's hand? Because she would have immediately freaked her shit and pestered Harry every second of the day about speaking to a teacher about it; either that or she would've taken matters into her own hands like she did with the Firebolt and just told McGonagall and/or Dumbledore anyway. Conclusion: She can't possibly know yet.

* * *

So the Ministry _does_ have watch-wizards prowling around the place at night. Where were they that one convenient night in June.

* * *

Wood always flipped his shit at the thought of Slytherin spies and made sure they were alone on the pitch whenever he could, why isn't Angelina doing something similar? And why in Merlin's name are any of them getting offended at the "_Gryffindors are losers"_ chant, that's like the lamest lame that has ever lamed, they should be cajoling the Slytherins into thinking of something more clever than that!

* * *

By the evening Harry felt as though somebody had been beating his brain against the inside of his skull. Probably because of that untreated concussion he may well have received a month ago and should not be doing loads and loads of exceptionally difficult schoolwork while he still has it. If only there was some magical way to treat head injuries, or at least some type of potion to help with headaches in general that one could easily go to Madam Pomfrey for so their heads don't explode in the library…

* * *

…The argument could well be made that Percy's Dumbledore's secret plan within the Ministry, and that he's really just trying to warn Ron that the Ministry's planning to kick Dumbledore out and put Umbridge in more power, and even that he's trying to gently suggest that severing ties with Harry would make it easier for him in the long run, not just with the Ministry but possibly even with Voldemort if he believes it, but he has to continue to be a dick about it or Ron/whoever read over his shoulder as he was writing it would get suspicious about something. Iunno, it seems like it could've been such a great plot twist and it was utterly wasted by not happening.

* * *

"Sirius!" Hermione said reproachfully. "Honestly, if you made a bit of an effort with Kreacher I'm sure he'd respond, after all, you are the only member of his family he's got left apart from all the other ones we heard you mention next to the tapestry because we were totally there for half that conversation even if we didn't contribute anything at all, and Professor Dumbledore said—"

"Honestly, Hermione, if you made a bit of an effort with this Draco Malfoy I keep hearing about, I'm sure he'd respond," Sirius interrupted, glaring at Hermione. "After all, he is your classmate, and Professor Dumbledore said something about all houses working together last year."

"…Shut up."

"As I thought."

* * *

"So what are Umbridge's lessons like?" Sirius interrupted. "Is she training you all to kill half-breeds, 'cause trying to brainwash you into thinking like her actually sounds like something she'd do and at least you'd be able to defend yourself against Greyback and the like."

"Nope."

"Oh. That sucks."

"Yep."

* * *

"Sirius, didn't you see the _Daily Prophet?"_ said Hermione anxiously.

"Oh that," said Sirius, grinning, "they're always guessing where I am, they haven't really got a clue—"

"Yeah, but we think this time they have," said Harry. "Something Malfoy said on the train made us think he knew it was you, and his father was on the platform, Sirius — you know, Lucius Malfoy — so don't come up here, whatever you do, if Malfoy recognizes you again—"

"It still won't matter," said Sirius unconcernedly.

"What d'you mean it won't matter?" said Harry angrily. "Do you know how much it would destroy me if you got sent back to Azkaban?!"

"I know, but I didn't mean that, I mean neither Malfoy can do a single thing about it."

"…What're you talking about?" asked Ron.

"Well, they can't exactly just amble up to Umbridge and say, 'Hey, I psychically know that that dog over there's actually an escaped prisoner in disguise,' can they? How would they be able to explain where they got that information without mentioning Voldemort or Pettigrew, two people they're supposed to be pretending to think are dead?"

"…Huh," said Harry, "I didn't think about that."

"So see you in Hogsmeade then?" said Sirius eagerly.

"Absolutely!"

And fun times were had by all.

* * *

"I don't understand you," said Professor Trelawney, clutching convulsively at the shawl around her scrawny neck.

"I'd like you to make a prediction for me," said Professor Umbridge very clearly.

Harry and Ron were not the only people watching and listening sneakily from behind their books now; most of the class were—_was_—staring transfixed at Professor Trelawney as she drew herself up to her full height, her beads and bangles clanking. Slowly, she turned to face Harry and Ron's table, and pointed a shaking finger at Harry.

"That boy there," she said in an attempt at her usual ethereal voice though the mystical effect was ruined somewhat by the way it was shaking with anger, "will meet a horrible, grisly death long before his time, I'm afraid."

The entire class gasped dramatically; Lavender and Parvati clapped their hands to their mouths and Ron put his hand on Harry's shoulder, a passable expression of great concern on his face. Harry looked down at the table and started breathing heavily in what he hoped was a panicky way. He knew what everyone was thinking; Most of the class knew that Professor Trelawney was an old fraud, but on the other hand, they loathed Umbridge so much that they felt very much on Trelawney's side and were willing to help her in any way that they could.

Professor Umbridge's eyebrows rose.

"I see," she said softly, scribbling on her clipboard once more. "And are their any more specific details you can give me?"

"I…I am afraid I cannot See the precise events," said Professor Trelawney, making a big show of pressing her hand to her forehead and closing her eyes. "The Inner Eye can often be clouded by the mundane world…All I see is his limp body, sprawled on the ground…blood everywhere…and his entrails—oh I feel faint," she finished in a whisper, collapsing into one of the chairs next to Dean and Neville.

Harry put his head in his hands and started to shake as whispers and murmurs broke out all around the classroom and Ron began gently rubbing his back, muttering words of comfort. Through it all, the scratching of the quill on Umbridge's clipboard could be heard.

"Well," she said at length, and Harry peaked at her from between his fingers," it looks like things will go very well for you indeed!"

Professor Trelawney audibly stifled a sigh of relief, and her students took great pains to not look too triumphant. The rest of the class went surprisingly smoothly, with Professor Trelawney interpreting all of Harry's dreams for Professor Umbridge's benefit (all of which, even the ones that involved eating porridge, apparently proving that he would die a gruesome and early death), and as soon as Umbridge descended the silver ladder at the end of the lesson, the whole class broke out into huge smiles and discretely started high-fiving each other discreetly in case she was still within earshot. Professor Trelawney smiled tremulously at them all, so grateful she was nearly in tears.

* * *

"I am here to teach you using a Ministry-approved method that does not include inviting students to give their opinions on matters about which they understand very little," said Professor Umbridge smoothly.

"OBJECTION!" shouted Dracarot, bursting into the classroom again for no raison. "Humanity is not a race of mindless automaton drones that must be ordered around! They have their own independent thoughts and have the right to them and to debate them! Your Minister is voted in and they have the eventual right to vote him out if they think it necessary. Like they totally will before the next book even starts."

"BEGONE, DEMON!"

"NEVER! I have been correcting iheartmwpp successfully for years and I shall continue to do so with you!"

"…You do know that a shitload of teachers actually do teach this way," said iheartmwpp morosely. "Even English teachers who are supposed to encourage thoughtful discussion and different interpretations of what symbolizes what can insist that only _their_ interpretation of Emily Dickinson is the only correct one and look down on a student trying to give their own opinion with a simple 'Excuse me, do _you_ have two English degrees? I didn't think so.' I'm not kidding, sophomore and junior year of high school, same teacher, did exactly this to a friend of mine and put her down in front of everyone, and we didn't learn a damn thing."

"Doesn't stop it from being wrong does it? Besides, I doubt he threw in political propaganda! Further while he's a failed teacher he at least _had_ degrees in the subject! Ten Galleons says Umbridge isn't even competent in her subject!"

"Oh you know as well as I do that that's never a qualification for teaching DADA."

"I _too _am competent!" shouted Umbridge, putting on a pouty face and stomping her foot. "Cornelius said I was the bestest ever!"

iheartmwpp and Dracarot just stared blankly at her.

* * *

Okay, now Hermione clearly knows about Harry's hand. Why isn't she taking McGonagall aside and telling her exactly what goes on in Umbridge's detentions? She can't actually think Harry deserves it…can she? Or does she actually understands that the current political climate makes it impossible for anyone to do anything—Wait, why isn't she making Skeeter do a thing on this? If she spins it as an anonymous student getting punished like this, and maybe not even paint Umbridge as the one doing it other than an offhand mention that nothing like this has ever happened before she came to Hogwarts, the parents would totally lose their minds and demand that Fudge or even Umbridge herself change things. Hermione has this power at her disposal now and, like nearly every simple solution that could be brought back to solve any new problem in the series, immediately forgets about it.

Also why didn't Harry at least tell Angelina so she wouldn't be as pissed off at him all the time.

* * *

_A/N: YAY THIS IS THE HAPPIEST BOOK OUT OF ALL OF THEM YAAAAAAAAAY!_

_**Review or Hermione'll force you to help her finish her bowtruckle drawing so you won't have any time to do it yourself so you'll have to finish it for homework on top of everything else you have to do and with no point of reference...BUT AT LEAST YOU'LL DRAW IT BETTER THAN SHE CAN! **_**BOOM!**


	5. Hermione Stop Being A Poo-Head

_A/N: A LOT of jokes were cut from the ff dot net version because of song lyrics and paranoia. And by a lot I mean like three and you won't even notice one because I'm not even drawing attention to it. Please to check the AO3 version for moar funnehs._

**Disclaimer:** Dracarot offered up a mere idea this time so he won't be cameoing in this chapter but still deserves credit where it's due. Also the usual blatant theft from Rifftrax, _Silent Hill 2, __Bonds Beyond Time Abridged, Attack on Titan,_ and _Monty Python's Life of Brian._

* * *

I HAD NO IDEA THAT DEAN'S LAST NAME WAS THOMAS DESPITE THAT REMINDER FROM THREE PAGES AGO, THANK YOU SO MUCH, I NEEDED THAT FOR I AM THE DUMB.

* * *

"Harry," said Hermione timidly, "don't you see? This…this is exactly why we need you…We need to know what it's r-really like…facing him…facing V-Voldemort…because if we hear about it…we can understand it perfectly and we'll know exactly how to deal with it when the time comes…never mind that one cannot actually understand what it's like to have to go through a traumatic event unless they actually go through it themselves…and even then different people deal with trauma in different ways…"

* * *

"_Reparo,"_ Harry muttered, pointing his wand at the broken pieces of china. They flew back together, good as new, but there was no returning the murtlap essence to the bowl. Except Slughorn shows us next book that there's totally a way, but why teach anything useful at Hogwarts when you can charm a teacup to sprout legs and dance around.

* * *

WHY WOULD YOU EVER WANT TO VANISH KITTENS THOSE POOR BABIES BETTER HAVE BEEN CONJURED IN THE FIRST PACE AND EVEN THEN DON'T THOSE IGNORANT BASTARDS KNOW THAT MUGGLES NEED CATS AND KITTIES IN ORDER FOR THE INTERNET TO FUNCTION WHAT IS _WRONG_ WITH THESE PEOPLE.

* * *

"The trouble is," Hermione said to Harry, "until V-Voldemort — oh for heaven's _sake,_ Ron, why do you still have to flinch violently when I only decided to stop doing that a couple weeks ago and still stutter a bit when using it, I'm looking down on you so much for continuing the behavior I only recently abandoned — comes out into the open, Sirius is going to have to stay hidden, isn't he? I mean, the stupid Ministry isn't going to realize Sirius is innocent until they accept that Dumbledore's been telling the truth about him all along. And once the fools start catching real Death eaters again it'll be obvious Sirius isn't one…I mean, he hasn't got the Mark for one thing, because that worked out so well during the last war and will continue to work out splendidly in this one when Stan Shunpike and the like get arrested, unless of course Stan really was a Death Eater but still."

* * *

"Where are we going anyway?" Harry asked. "The Three Broomsticks?"

"Oh — no," said Hermione, coming out of her reverie, "no, it's always backed and really noisy. I've told the others to meet us in the Hog's Head, that other pub, you know the one, it's not on the main road. I think it's a bit…you know…_dodgy_…but students don't normally go in there, so I think we'll only be overheard by the dodgy people who normally frequent there, I'm positive nothing bad will happen if we go through with this."

Wait, what was Lee's last name again, I didn't catch it the first four-and-a-half books. -_-

"So who did you say is supposed to be meeting us?" Harry asked, wrenching open the rusty top of his butterbeer and taking a swig.

"Just a couple of people," Hermione repeated, checking her watch and then looking anxiously toward the door. "I told them to be here about now and I'm sure they all know where it is — oh look, this might be them now—"

The door of the pub had opened. A thick band of dusty sunlight split the room in two for a moment and the vanished, blocked by the incoming rush of a crowd of people.

First came Neville with Dean and Lavender, who were closely followed by Parcati and Padma Patil with (Harry's stomach did a backflip) Cho and one of her usually giggling girlfriends from her harem, then (on her own and looking so dreamy that she might have walked in by accident) Luna Lovegood; then Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnet, and Angelina Johnson, for some reason the repetition of everyone's surnames isn't as irksome this time around, Colin and Dennis Creevey even though the latter was only a second year and therefore shouldn't have been allowed to come to Hogsmeade so the twins must've told him about one of the secret passageways into the village, Ernie Macmillan, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Hannah Abbott, and a Hufflepuff girl with a long plait down her back whose name Harry did not know despite taking Herbology with her for more than four years; three Ravenclaw boys he was pretty sure were called Anthony Goldstein, Michael Corner, and Terry Boot even though Gryffindors and Ravenclaws don't ever get mentioned as having a single class together within Harry's age group and he would have absolutely no reason to know their names as he rarely interacts with anyone from Ravenclaw in the first place; Ginny, closely followed by a tall skinny blond boy with an upturned nose whom Harry recognized vaguely as being a member of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, and bringing up the rear, Fred and George Weasley with their friend Lee Jordan, all three of whom were carrying large paper bags crammed with Zonko's merchandise.

"A couple of people?" said Harry hoarsely to Hermione. "A _couple of people?"_

"Yes, well, the idea seemed quite popular," said Hermione happily.

"Once we get back to Hogwarts, I'm not speaking to you until you learn to be honest with me," said Harry coldly, "this is the last straw."

"Wha…But—"

"Nope, I'm done."

* * *

"Hi," said Fred, reaching the bar first and counting his companions quickly. "Could we have…twenty-five butterbeers, please?"

The barman glared at him for a moment, then, throwing down his rag irritably as though he had been interrupted in something very important, he started passing up dusty butterbeers from under the bar.

"Cheers," said Fred, handing them out. "Cough up, everyone, I haven't got enough gold for all of these…"

"You don't have three galleons so I can give a sickle back?" the barman grunted.

"Oh. Never mind, guys, I got this."

"HOW CAN YOU HAVE THIS," shouted Ron and Ginny.

"Don't worry about it," said George, smirking. Harry hid under the table.

* * *

"Is it true," interrupted the girl with the long plait down her back, looking at Harry, "that you can produce a Patronus? I apparently missed the Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw match two years ago, you see."

There was a murmur of interest around the group at this, presumably because they all finally put two and two together and realized that that was what it had been.

"Yeah," said Harry slightly defensively.

"A corporeal Patronus?"

The phrase stirred something in Harry's memory.

"Er — you don't know Madam Bones, do you?" he asked.

The girl smiled.

"She's my auntie," she said. "I'm Susan Bones, you might remember me from going on five years of taking Herbology together. She told me about your hearing even though that kind of thing's probably supposed to be extremely confidential. So — is it really true? You make a stag Patronus?"

"Yes," said Harry.

"Blimey, Harry!" said Lee, looking deeply impressed. "I never knew that even though I was commentating for that game and none of us could possibly have missed it!"

"Mum told Ron not to spread it around even though everyone already totally knew about it," said Fred, grinning at Harry. "She said you got enough attention as it was."

* * *

"We think the reason Umbridge doesn't want us trained in Defense Against the Dark Arts," said Hermione, "is that she's got some…some mad idea that Dumbledore could use the students in the school as a kind of private army. She thinks he'd mobilize us against the Ministry."

Nearly everybody looked stunned at this news; everybody except Luna Lovegood, who piped up, "Well, that makes sense. After all, Cornelius Fudge has got his own private army."

"What?" said Harry, completely thrown by this unexpected piece of information.

"Yes, he's got an army of heliopaths," said Luna solemnly.

"No, he hasn't," snapped Hermione.

"Yes, he has," said Luna.

"What are heliopaths?" asked Neville, looking blank.

"They're spirits of fire," said Luna, her protuberant eyes widening so that she looked madder than ever. "Great tall flaming creatures that gallop across the ground burning everything in front of them—"

"They don't exist, Neville," said Hermione tartly.

"Oh yes they do!"

"I'm sorry, but where's the _proof_ of that?" snapped Hermione.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" said Zacharias angrily. _"I_ can't demand proof that You-Know-Who's back but _you_ can demand proof for something else that can't possibly happen? _I'm sorry_, but where's the logic in that?!"

"This is different!" said Hermione.

"How?" Zacharias snarled. "Because Potter's your friend but Lovegood isn't?"

"That's not it at all!" Hermione insisted, turning pink.

"Uh-huh, right."

"And if Fudge thinks _we're_ forming an army," said Padma, "shouldn't it be reasonable to expect that he's got a private one of his own in the works, even if it may not be specifically one of heliopaths?"

"…Okay, I'll give you that one," said Hermione grudgingly.

* * *

But Ernie was looking rather hesitant about signing too. Hermione raised her eyebrows at him.

"I — well, we are _prefects,"_ Ernie burst out. "And if this list was found…well, I mean to say…you said yourself, if Umbridge finds out…"

"So you don't want to pass your Defense O.W.L at all, do you?" asked Harry pointedly. "Not to mention you just said this group was the most important thing you do this year."

"I — yes," said Ernie, "yes, I do believe that, it's just…"

"Hypocrite," Ron coughed loudly. Ernie glared at him.

"Ernie, do you really think I'd leave that list lying around?" said Hermione testily.

"You mean like you're totally going to?" said Ernie in the same tone of voice.

* * *

Harry had never before appreciated just how beautiful the village of Hogsmeade was. Probably because of all the death and horror that continually surrounded the neighboring castle.

* * *

How did Oliver not make them learn the Sloth Grip Roll before, why is Angelina just making them do it now.

* * *

By Order Of

The High Inquisitor of Hogwarts

All Student Organizations, Societies, Teams, Groups, and Clubs are henceforth disbanded.

An Organization, Society, Team, Group, or Club is hereby defined as a regular meeting of three or more students. Students are no longer allowed to have more than one friend, or may only meet with them one at a time.

Permission to re-form or continue to casually hang out may be sought from the High Inquisitor (Professor Umbridge).

No Student Organization, Society, Team, Group, or Club may exist without the knowledge and approval of the High Inquisitor.

Any student found to have formed, or to belong to, an Organization, Society, Team, Group, or Club that has not been approved by the High Inquisitor will be expelled.

Gangs, Mobs, Associations, Squads, Bands, Factions, Unions, Guilds, Alliances, Crews, Bunches, Hordes, Packs, Posses, Flocks, Masses, Hosts, Coalitions, Leagues, Swarms, Throngs, Multitudes, Orders, and Armies are all totally permissible, though.

_The above is in accordance with Educational Decree Number Twenty-four._

* * *

"Er — I don't think we're allowed in the girls' dormitories," said Harry, pulling Ron to his feet and trying not to laugh.

Two fourth-year girls came zooming gleefully down the stone slide.

"Oooh, who tried to get upstairs?" they giggled happily, leaping to their feet and ogling Harry and Ron.

"Me," said Ron, who was still rather disheveled. "I didn't realize that would happen. It's not fair!" he added to Harry, as the girls headed off for the portrait hole, still giggling madly. "Hermione's allowed in our dormitory, how come we're not allowed—?"

"Well, it's an old-fashioned rule," said Hermione, who had just slid neatly onto a rug in front of them and was now getting to her feet, "but it says in _Hogwarts, A History_ that the founders thought boys were less trustworthy than girls."

"Well why didn't they change that in the last thousand years?" said Ron grumpily. "What if we needed to reach a friend in an emergency?"

"And girls can do just as much damage to boys," said Harry darkly, thinking of all the encounters he'd have with Romilda Vane next year. "Why don't they even it out, make it so girls can't get into boys dorms as well?"

"Because we'll barely be aware of this nearly twenty years from now, even," said Hermione, shrugging.

* * *

"Someone must have blabbed to her!" Ron said angrily.

"They can't have done," said Hermione in a low voice.

"You're so naïve," said Ron, "you think just because you're all honorable and trustworthy—"

"No, they can't have done because I put a jinx on that piece of parchment we all signed," said Hermione grimly.

"What, does it prevent everyone who signed it from telling her anything?"

"No, but if anyone's run off and told Umbridge, we'll know exactly who they are and they will really regret it."

"…That doesn't mean they 'can't have' told her anything," said Harry, "that just means we'll know who _did_ do it after that fact, that's practically useless."

"There was a SONG LYRIC here. It's gone now."

"Of course it is."

* * *

"Bet Umbridge is in History of Magic," said Ron grimly, as they set off for Binns's lesson. "She hasn't inspected Binns yet even though she could have totally inspected it already during someone else's class like she did with Flitwick…Bet you anything she's there…"

* * *

Harry probably could've just left the class and Binns wouldn't even have looked up, he didn't have to draw attention to himself at all.

* * *

Two stone gargoyles flanked the staffroom door. As Harry approached, one of them croaked, "You should be in class, sunny Jim."

"Since when did you talk?" said Harry curtly.

"Since like forever," said the other gargoyle in a high-pitched voice. "Kind of a big deal."

* * *

Oh yeah, I can _totally_ see why chicks love Draco Malfoy after that comment he made about people in St. Mungo's, he's so charming! (What is _wrong_ with you people, HE IS NOT TOM FELTON, HE IS AN ASSHOLE, AND THAT IS _NOT! CHARMING!_)

* * *

"You can't skive off Divination," said Hermione severely.

"Hark who's talking, you walked out if Divination, you hate Trelawney!" said Ron indignantly.

"I don't _hate_ her," said Hermione loftily. "I just think she's an absolutely appalling teacher and a real old fraud…But Harry's already missed History of Magic and I don't think he ought to miss anything else today!"

"Don't care, skipping it," said Harry.

"But—"

"I'd like to sleep some time this week, Hermione, and I'd rather use a completely useless period of time for something actually productive if you don't mind, _I_ don't have a Time-Turner to help me study better."

Hermione didn't speak to him for the rest of the day, but Harry got an essay and a half done in that time so he considered the work he was able to complete to be totally worth the silent treatment, especially when Snape begrudgingly gave him an Acceptable the following week.

* * *

I just realized that Trelawney didn't make the kids _buy_ the copies _Dream Oracle _for her class that year and just provided them herself, that was weirdly nice of her.

* * *

Lee's last name is Jordan. This will come up in some way later.

* * *

Hermione, Harry, and Ron watched George projectile-vomit into the bucket, gulp down the rest of the chew, and straighten up, beaming with his arms wide to protracted applause.

"You know, I don't get why Fred and George only got three O.W.L.s each," said Harry, watching as Fred, George, and Lee collect gold from the eager crowd. "They really know their stuff…"

"Oh, they only know flashy stuff that's no real use to anyone," said Hermione disapprovingly.

"Yes, because memorizing the Pythagorean Theorem and the Quadratic Equation will mean so much in your average job that doesn't involve becoming a mathematician," said Ron scathingly. "They probably only concentrated on what they would need for their dream jobs and were more focused on making and coming up with ideas for products than studying pointless dates no one's going to remember or random star positions."

"But it's always useful to have a back-up plan," Hermione insisted, "and you need good grades for that!"

"I'm sure they'll still manage to succeed in whatever they do," said Ron, "even if they just continue with the mail-order system they've set up, that'll probably at least pay for food and maybe a little rent. Besides, in case you hadn't noticed, they've got about twenty-six Galleons already…Almost entirely from female buyers, that's weird, why are _they_ so eager to continuously throw up…"

Hermione's eyes widened.

"I'm…I'm going to have to talk to them about a couple of things their products imply that they might not have thought of…"

Ron watched her get up and walk over to the twins, talking to them in an undertone. He blinked as Fred and George looked at each other, looking disturbed, and glanced over at Harry.

"Am I missing something?"

"…Might be just a Muggle thing," Harry began, "or it used to be, but…sometimes people intentionally throw up to lose weight, and since there's more well-publicized pressure for girls to be thin than boys…"

"Merlin's pants," Ron breathed, staring at the gaggle of girls who were now eagerly rushing back to their dormitories, Puking Pastilles clutched tightly in their hands.

* * *

"First of all, Ron," said Sirius, "I've sworn to pass on a message from your mother."

"Oh yeah?" said Ron, sounding apprehensive.

"She says on no account whatsoever are you to take part in an illegal secret Defense Against the Dark Arts group. She says you'll be expelled for sure and your future will be ruined because every single job on the planet requires education and no drop-outs ever manage to forge their own way in the history of forever. She says there will be plenty of time to learn how to defend yourselves after you've already died since Voldemort clearly doesn't care how old you are which is why he goes around attempting to slaughter one-year-olds at will, but you are too young to be worrying about something that could happen at any moment right now. She also" —Sirius's eyes turned to the other two— "advises Harry and Hermione not to proceed with the group, though she has finally accepted that she has no authority over either of them and simply begs them to remember that she has their best interests at heart. Ginny can do whatever she wants as usual since she's the special favorite on account of possessing fallopian tubes and clearly she's given up on the twins, otherwise I'd be asking you to pass this on to your siblings as well."

* * *

"And if we do get expelled?" Hermione asked, a quizzical look on her face.

"Hermione, this whole thing was your idea!" said Harry, staring at her. "I _refuse_ to let you back out of this on me!"

"I know it was, and I know you won't…I kind of think I'm still stuck in the 'better killed than expelled' mentality a little bit," she mumbled sheepishly, blushing and staring at the rug.

"That would explain _so much_ about your sudden change in attitude next chapter…" said Ron, nearly falling over with the force of this realization.

"I think that it's _really _dumb that iheart has to cut out this particular song lyric as it could just be a normal flippin' sentence but she can't risk that an admin might be an _Attack on Titan _fan which everyone should be anyway so I guess it's understandable that it could be recognized as such," said Sirius, "and better expelled and able to defend yourself than sitting safely in school without a clue."

"Especially since the school has proven over and over again that it isn't safe anyway," muttered Ron, and Harry and Sirius chuckled.

"But if we get expelled, our wands get snapped and we won't be able to defend ourselves anyway," Hermione argued.

"Which is when you _run,"_ said Sirius as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

* * *

"I was just wondering," said Hermione, her voice stronger now, "Whether we're doing the right thing, starting this Defense Against the Dark Arts group."

"What?" said Harry and Ron together.

"Hermione, it was your idea in the first place!" said Ron indignantly.

"I know," said Hermione, twisting her fingers together. "But—"

"No," said Harry firmly, cutting her off. _"You're_ the one who came up with the idea. _You're_ the one who talked me into it. _You're _the one who forced everyone to sign that little contract of yours. Guess what? If you don't want to do it anymore, _you'll_ be the one to tell each and every person who showed up to the Hog's Head that _you_ are calling it off, and you'll tell them exactly why: that you're chickening out. And when Zacharias or whoever else has also had cold feet the whole time immediately goes to Umbridge anyway since they'll think the deal's off, it'll be _entirely_ your fault."

"I know that," said Hermione softly, "I just think that Snuffles thinking it was a spectacular idea made me realize that maybe it's not."

Peeves floated over them on his stomach, peashooter at the ready; automatically all three of them lifted their bags to cover their heads until he had passed.

"Let me get this straight," said Harry angrily, as they put their bags back on the floor, "Sirius agrees with us, so you don't think we should do it anymore? When did you become such a Sirius-basher?"

Hermione looked tense and rather miserable. Now staring at her own hands she said, "Do you honestly trust his judgment?"

"Yes, I do!" said Harry at once. "He's always given us great advice, and I couldn't find a single thing wrong in anything he said last night!"

"Neither could I," said Ron, "he was definitely right about someone outside Hogwarts wanting to kill us all, do you think he's wrong for wanting us to know how to defend ourselves so we have less of a chance of dying horribly?"

Katie's last name is Bell, by the way.

"Which is what the whole point of _your plan_ was," Harry reminded her, still furious. "Do you now want us and the other twenty-five kids to die by Voldemort or a Death Eater's hand, is that it?"

"Of course not!" Hermione protested tremulously.

"Then _what is the problem."_

Ron's eyes widened.

"You don't like him anymore because he owns a house-elf, hasn't freed him, and isn't exceedingly polite to him every second of every day," he breathed.

"That's not it at all!" said Hermione, turning red. "Though admittedly I think Snuffles should've freed him the instant he found him in the house so we wouldn't have a massive security leak if we freed him now…"

"…Okay, I'll accept that as a massive oversight on the part of the entire Order," said Harry, "but that still doesn't excuse your entire attitude towards Sirius."

"Look, I'm just saying he might not have the best judgment anymore—"

"Neither did your parents, they chose to be dentists, the most vile Muggle profession imaginable," said Harry fiercely. "See, I can say mean, undeserving things about adults you care about too."

"Oh piss off," Hermione snapped.

"How shall I piss off, O Lord?"

* * *

Wow, it's almost like Dumbledore distancing himself from Harry was a really bad idea in the long run. Who'da thunk it!

* * *

Harry returned hungrily to his sausage and mash. When he looked up to take a drink of pumpkin juice, he found Hermione watching him.

"How long have you been doing that?" he said thickly.

"Enough to feed the shippers," said Hermione.

"Well, what?"

"Well…it's just that Dobby's plans aren't always that safe. Don't you remember when he lost you all the bones in your arms?"

"Let me get this straight," said Ron, putting his fork down. "You'll stick up for house-elf rights and you'll defend Kreacher when he says the most hate-filled things imaginable, but you won't listen to their ideas or opinions on anything."

"And _Lockhart_ lost me all the bones in my arm," Harry reminded her, "Dobby only broke it. And besides, this room isn't just some mad idea of his; Dumbledore knows about it too, he mentioned it to me at the Yule Ball."

Hermione's expression cleared.

"Dumbledore told you about it?"

"Yes, the guy who thought it was a good idea to leave me alone without any information this summer when I was suffering PTSD in an exceptionally unsupportive environment and also did all the other stuff we usually complain about him fucking up stupendously mentioned a dumb room to me in passing," said Harry, shrugging.

"Oh well, that's all right then," said Hermione briskly and she raised no more objections._  
_

* * *

At half-past seven Harry, Ron, and Hermione left the Gryffindor common room, Harry clutching a certain piece of aged parchment in his hand.

"How the hell'd you get that thing back, anyway?" asked Ron curiously.

"Summoned it from the fake Moody's office off-page," said Harry nonchalantly, "it's not a big deal, you don't have to see absolutely every single minute thing I do in my entire life, you know."

"When it's something as important to you as the thing your dad, Snuffles, and Professor Lupin took ages to make and was always supremely useful in every situation?" said Hermione incredulously. "Yeah, in this case, we kind of do."

"How much does it suck that JKR actually regretted bringing it back?"

"Well to be fair, there _are_ a lot of ways we could easily use this thing that we never take advantage of because the plot said so and it's almost way too super-powered," said Harry, "but yeah, that does kind of suck since I am rather fond of this old thing."

"EXACTLY," said Ron and Hermione in unison.

* * *

"I also think we ought to have a name," Hermione said brightly, her hand still in the air. "It would promote a feeling of team spirit and unity, don't you think?"

"Can we be the Anti-Umbridge League?" said Angelina hopefully. "Leagues aren't banned by Educational Decree Number Twenty-four, we won't even get in trouble for it!"

* * *

Something very odd was happening to Zacharias; the reader had to be constantly reminded that his last name was Smith. Also, every time he opened his mouth to disarm Anthony Goldstein, his own wand would fly out of his hand, yet Anthony did not seem to be making a sound. Anthony had clearly moved on a bit from the fifth year syllabus and was starting to teach himself nonverbal magic—Oh, or it could've been Fred and George dicking around, either way…

* * *

Cho laughed. Her friend Marietta looked at them rather sourly and turned away.

"Don't mind her," Cho muttered. "She doesn't really want to be here but I made her come with me."

"Why?" asked Harry.

"Because otherwise she would constantly be asking where I was and what I was doing and might well tell on me," said Cho. "Trust me, this is better in the long run."

"…Great friend you got there."

"I know, isn't she great?" Cho giggled, hugging Marietta who tried in vain to pull away.

"…"

* * *

Harry pulled out the Marauder's Map again and checked it carefully for signs of teachers on the seventh floor. While he looked at the area of the map that housed the seventh floor, he didn't bother noticing whether or not the Room of Requirement even appeared on the map (and as Sirius hadn't mentioned it, it probably didn't); if he had, maybe he wouldn't have been as confused the following year when he couldn't find Malfoy on it and stuff. He let them all leave in threes and fours, ensuring that they would be punished if caught by Umbridge on the way back since groups larger than two weren't allowed to even casually hang out anymore. Also it was really good of the members of the D.A. not in the know about the map to never question him about it or anything.

* * *

Harry was finding it almost impossible to fix a regular night of the week for D.A. meetings, as they had to accommodate three separate Quidditch teams' practices, which were often rearranged depending on the weather conditions; Angelina and the other Gryffindor players always stared at the other two captains whenever they rescheduled because of this as if they couldn't even conceive of such a concept; but Harry was not sorry about this, he had a feeling that it was probably better to keep the timing of their meetings unpredictable. If anyone was watching them, it would be hard to make out a pattern, other than the part where they always seemed to meet whenever the Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw Quidditch teams didn't have practice.

* * *

_A/N: I wasn't kidding about that Attack on Titan thing, everyone should watch it like right now, especially if you like shows/games like The Walking Dead or whatever and even if you don't because this one's better, it's basically a zombie apocalypse show with giants instead of zombies and set in like the middle ages or something and it's the best anime I've seen in years. I don't even care if you don't like anime, WATCH IT ANYWAY. I COMMAND YOU. AS KING OF THE BRITONS._

_******Review or your friend'll start a club and force you to head it even though you really have issues with the whole idea and want to do everything you can to back out of it only no one will let you and when the person who originally had the idea gets cold feet you STILL have to go through with it.**_


	6. Fine, DON'T Reassure The Traumatized Kid

_A/N: I could've posted this more than an hour earlier but I was too busy watching Attack on Titan on Netflix. Yes, it is there now. If you have Netflix I strongly encourage you to watch it for it is amazing. Yes._

**Disclaimer: **Dracarot, stop being intelligent, you're adding to the story and making it funnier, no one wants that. Also theft from _Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip, Firefly, Two Best Friends Play Harry Potter Kinect, _and_ The Producers._

* * *

When Alicia Spinnet turned up in the hospital wing with her eyebrows growing so thick and fast that they obscured her vision and obstructed her mouth, Snape insisted that she must have attempted a Hair-Thickening Charm on herself and refused to listen to the fourteen eyewitnesses who insisted that they had seen the Slytherin Keeper, Miles Bletchly, hit her from behind with a jinx while she worked in the library, and who apparently didn't bother alerting another teacher besides Snape who wouldn't be quite as much of a dick. Not McGonagall, though, she'd probably expel him since she's about as dickish as Snape right now, maybe Flitwick or Sprout or someone who usually doesn't suck.

* * *

…So why exactly are the Slytherins allowed to taunt one of the Gryffindor players, is there technically no rule against it? 'Cause if Gryffindors tried that on a Slytherin player you _know _Snape'd be hammerin' down on that shit, that's kind of obscenely irksome that McGonagall doesn't even try.

* * *

The Snitch skirted the foot of one of the goal hoops and scooted off toward the other side of the stands; its change of direction suited Malfoy, who was nearer. Harry pulled his Firebolt around, he and Malfoy were now neck and neck…

Feet from the ground, Harry easily pulled ahead with his vastly superior broom, lifted his right hand, and his fingers closed around the tiny, struggling ball with little effort whatsoever.

* * *

Harry heard a snort behind him and turned around, still holding the Snitch tightly in his hand: Draco Malfoy had landed close by; white-faced with fury that no one would know his name after four-and-a-half books of being a major player, he was still managing to sneer.

"Saved Weasley's neck, haven't you?" he said to Harry. "I've never seen a worse Keeper…but then he was _born in a bin_…Did you like my lyrics, Potter?"

"Was he really?" said Harry, feigning interest. "How do you know that, you weren't even born yet so you can't have been there…Or did your father stalk Mrs. Weasley while she was pregnant or something, how creepily obsessed _is_ your family with Ron's, they could probably easily press charges against your family by now, do you realize how out of hand this shit's getting?"

Draco stared at him.

* * *

"—but you like the Weasleys, don't you, Potter?" said Malfoy, sneering. "Spend your holidays there and everything, don't you? Can't see how you stand the stink, but I suppose when you've been dragged up by Muggles even the Weasleys' hovel smells okay—"

Harry grabbed hold of George; meanwhile it was taking the combined efforts of Angelina, Alicia, and Katie to stop Fred leaping on Malfoy, who was laughing openly. Harry looked around for Madam Hooch, but she was still berating Crabbe for his illegal Bludger attack.

"Or perhaps," said Malfoy, leering as he backed away, "you can remember what _your_ mother's house stank like, Potter, and Weasley's pigsty reminds you of it—"

"Yes," Harry snapped, pulling George back with all his strength and throwing him to the ground behind him as he faced Malfoy, "I suppose the scent of parental and familial love _can_ be a little disconcerting to someone who's never experienced it before!"

Malfoy stopped in his tracks, an ugly, dark look settling over his face. Fred had stopped struggling and was now hanging limply in Angelina, Alicia, and Katie's arms as they all turned as one to gape open-mouthed at Harry. George started a slow clap from his sprawled position on the grass which the rest of the Gryffindor team sans Ron soon picked up on, and it slowly spread to the rest of the non-Slytherin students in the stands as word swiftly traveled throughout the stadium.

* * *

"So you couldn't use magic to get there?" asked Ron, looking thunderstruck. "You had to act like Muggles _all the way?"_

"Yeah, an' it was kinda easy, me not knowin' much magic an' all, wha's yer problem, Ron?"

"Nothing, just impressed, is all."

"Oh. Well tha's all righ', then."

* * *

"And you talked to him?"

"Oh yeah. Firs' we presented him with a nice battle helmet—goblin-made an' indestructible, yeh know, though one has ter wonder why, with the whole goblin issues of ownership, why they would even _make_ one fer giants, unless Dumbledore struck a deal with 'em an' agreed ter pay the rent on it forever or summat…Or maybe it was just a regular-sized helmet tha' Dumbledore was able ter permanently enlarge, sounds like the kind of insane magic he'd be able ter pull off…Still don' know how the goblins'd feel abou' it, but there yeh go…"

* * *

Hagrid sighed deeply. "Well, we hadn't bargained on a new Gurg two days after we'd made friendly contact with the firs' one; even though we knew we'd be enterin' an area made up of a group of beings with an insanely long history o' violence we never expected 'em ter _kill_ each other!"

"Of course you didn't," muttered Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

* * *

"Did Golgomath rip off more heads?" asked Hermione, sounding squeamish.

"No," said Hagrid. "I wish he had."

"What d'you mean?"

"I mean we soon found out he didn' object ter all wizards — just us."

"Death Eaters?" said Harry quickly.

"No, the Chudley Cannons, O' COURSE DEATH EATERS!"

* * *

…Dumbledore couldn't have given a story to Hagrid to tell when he'd gotten back explaining his absence? Really smart guy, that Dumbledore, really excellent at covering all the bases, he is.

* * *

They were so busy that Hermione had stopped knitting elf hats and was fretting that she was down to her last three.

"All those poor elves I haven't set free yet, having to say over during Christmas because there aren't enough hats!"

"Hermione," said Harry, looking up from his History of Magic essay and utterly fed up with her behavior, "Dobby has been taking all the hats. You haven't freed a single elf."

Hermione turned and stared at him.

"How could he do that?" she cried in a shrill voice. "Doesn't he know how much his kin wants to be free?"

"Absolutely," said Harry coldly. "He knows that they _don't want to be freed at all._ When he told me about the Room of Requirement, he told me that he had to clean all of Gryffindor Tower all by himself because all the other house-elves were so offended that they didn't want to come up here anymore. You've just created more work for Dobby and didn't solve a single problem."

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?!"

"Because I wanted to spare your feelings, but this is getting out of control and needs to end _now."_

* * *

"Mistletoe," said Cho quietly, pointing at the ceiling over his head.

"Yeah," said Harry. His mouth was very dry. "It's probably full of nargles, though."

"What are nargles?"

"No idea," said Harry. She had moved closer. His brain seemed to have been Stunned. "You'd have to ask Loony. Luna, I mean."

Cho made a funny noise halfway between a sob and a laugh.

"It's strange," she sniffed, even nearer him now. He could have counted the freckles on her nose. "I've been in her House with her for nearly four years, and yet I haven't heard her mention those ones yet."

"Yeah," said Harry. He could not think. A tingling sensation was spreading throughout him, paralyzing his arms, legs, and brain. "And me mentioning them implies that I was thinking of her instead of you as we were talking."

"Charming," she muttered. She was much too close. He could see every tear clinging to her eyelashes…

* * *

"Are you that bad at kissing?" said Ron, his smile fading slightly.

"Dunno," said Harry, who hadn't considered this, and immediately felt rather worried. "Maybe I am."

"Of course you're not," said Hermione absently, still scribbling away at her letter.

"How do you know?" said Ron in a sharp voice.

"Because Cho spends half her time crying these days," said Hermione vaguely. "She does it at mealtimes, in the loos, all over the place."

"If Harry's as good as you claim he is with supposedly no evidence," said Ron, "you'd think she'd at least feel wanted and appreciated by a guy who likes her and who she seems to like in return."

"Oh please," said Hermione in a dignified voice, dipping the pint of her quill into her ink pot, "no girl wants _that!_ Don't you know _anything _about women?"

"…Evidently not," said Ron, eyeing her warily, "and I see now that I never will."

* * *

"Who're you writing the novel to anyway?" Ron asked Hermione, trying to read the bit of parchment now trailing on the floor. Hermione hitched it up out of sight.

"Viktor."

"_Krum?"_

"How many other Viktors do we know?"

"And what exactly are you writing to him?" said Ron sharply, gaping at her. "You know we can't put too much in letters these days, and you're filling up an entire roll of parchment! What in the name of Merlin's SpongeBob-themed tampons are you telling him?!"

"…I don't really know," Hermione admitted.

"Well brilliant, then."

* * *

"What does she see in Krum?" Ron demanded as he and Harry climbed the boys' stairs.

"You know, I'm pretty sure she doesn't see anything," said Harry, considering the matter, "I think she's just trying to make you jealous."

"Oh really," said Ron dubiously, "and how's she gonna manage that?"

"Look, she's annoyed that you haven't done anything to show your own interest in her, right?" said Harry, "so she's visibly showing that she's still on good terms with someone she used to sort of be involved with, and now you feel crazy, the way she feels, the way she wants you to feel."

"I don't feel crazy!" said Ron, sounding aggravated.

"He's a professional athlete, Ron, he's physically superior to you in every possible way."

"I feel a little crazy."

"Exactly."

* * *

How did Neville know where McGonagall's sleeping quarters was?

* * *

Harry felt as though the panic inside him might spill over at any moment; he wanted to run, to yell for Dumbledore. Mr. Weasley was bleeding as they walked along so sedately, and what if those fangs (Harry tried hard not to think "my fangs") had been poisonous? Come to think of it, why _were_ they strolling through the castle so sedately, especially if McGonagall believed him; shouldn't they have at least been doing a light jog over to Dumbledore's office? Especially since it was basically on the other side of the castle and probably took about twenty minutes or so to get to normally? However, when Harry voiced his thoughts aloud to McGonagall, his words backed up eagerly by Ron, McGonagall merely slapped him on the back of the head and told him not to give any thought to things that were not his concern and that he was too young to understand, like virtually every other useful piece of information in this gorram book.

* * *

"How did you see this?" Dumbledore asked quietly, still not looking at Harry.

"Well…I don't know," said Harry, rather angrily — what did it matter? "Inside my head, I supposed—"

"You misunderstand me," said Dumbledore, still in the same calm tone. "I mean…can you remember — er — where you were positioned as you watched this attack happen? Were you perhaps standing beside the victim, or else looking down on the scene from above?"

"Erm, the victim is apparently _my father,"_ Ron burst out, now looking seriously panicked. "So could you get a move on with the saving of him instead of wasting time interrogating Harry about whether or not his vision had Dutch angles?!"

"In a minute, my dear boy," said Dumbledore cheerfully. "Finding out random, minute details about some dream your friend Harry had is far more important than saving a dying man suffering from multiple snake bites!"

"I HOLD YOU IN SUCH HIGH ESTEEM," Ron yelled at him sarcastically.

"I know, right?" said Dumbledore happily, beaming brightly.

* * *

"The man has red hair and glasses," said Dumbledore. "Everard, you will need to raise the alarm, make sure he is found by the right people, which will totally be possible in the dead of night when presumably no Ministry worker ever works due to it being absolutely deserted at the end of the year even though it wasn't all that late at the time, we're clearly told that there are watch-wizards hanging around, and people work late at government establishments all the time, which of course means that there's absolutely no way that Arthur will be found by a random Unspeakable pulling a night shift—"

* * *

Harry sat down, watching Dumbledore over his shoulder. Dumbledore was now stroking Fawkes's plumed golden head with one finger. The phoenix awoke immediately. He stretched his beautiful head high and observed Dumbledore through bright, dark eyes.

"We will need," said Dumbledore very quietly to the bird, "a warning. Not for you to travel directly to Arthur, heal him, and get him out of there, thus insuring that an exceptionally important Order member lived and could still be used and also that I don't get mauled to death by eight other people, because that would just be highly intelligent and keep with the whole secrecy thing that we're failing so much at right now."

"Wait, you're _not_ going to do that?" snapped Ron, whipping his head around.

"Of course not!" said Dumbledore laughingly.

"Why not? Would phoenix tears not work on the types of wounds Dad has?"

"I don't see why they wouldn't," said Harry, "they worked on my basilisk wound three years ago."

"Well then make him do the smart thing!" cried Ron, getting up and stomping over to Fawkes, but there was a flash of fire and the phoenix had gone. "Is he going to do the smart thing or the dumb thing?" he demanded of Dumbledore.

"Why, the dumb thing, of course!" cheered Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling.

"Damn it!" screamed Ron, kicking Fawkes's stand. "And now I can't even slap the bird! What the fuck's the point of a magic world if I can't slap a phoenix in the face!"

Dumbledore now swooped down upon one of the fragile silver instruments whose function Harry had never known, carried it over to his desk, sat down facing them again, and tapped it gently with the tip of his wand.

The instrument tinkled into life at once with rhythmic clinking noises. Tiny puffs of pale green smoke issued from the miniscule silver tube at the top. Dumbledore watched the smoke closely, his brow furrowed, and after a few seconds, the tiny puffs became a steady stream of smoke that thickened and coiled in the air…A serpent's head grew out of the end of it, opening its mouth wide. Harry wondered whether the instrument was confirming his story: He looked eagerly at Dumbledore for a sign that he was right, but Dumbledore did not look up.

"Naturally, naturally," murmured Dumbledore apparently to himself, still observing the stream of smoke without the slightest sign of surprise. "But why is Voldemort suddenly able to possess his own Horcrux? Can he do this with any Horcrux or only with living ones? And how exactly did he figure out he could do this? Hell, could Harry see into _any_ Horcrux or just the living ones? Was Voldemort possessing the snake at all or was Harry just looking through another Horcrux and I fed the whole possession thing to the Order to stop everyone from flipping their shit at the fact that Harry was a Horcrux? And why in the name of Merlin's Better Than Sex mascara does this never come up again?!"

Harry could make neither head nor tail of any of these questions. Nor, it seemed, could the smoke serpent, for it instantly transformed into several small question marks hovering above the silver instrument.

"Well bugger me," said Dumbledore crossly.

* * *

"Fawkes!" said Sirius at once, snatching up the parchment. "That's not Dumbledore's writing — it must be a message from your mother — here—"

He thrust the letter into George's hand, who ripped it open and read aloud, _"Dad's dead 'cause Dumbledore dicked around too long and also because he didn't make his super bird with awesome powers use them in any way that would be efficient. I'm going to go murder him now. Love Mum."_

George looked around the table.

"I'm so glad we have such a wise, intelligent leader, don't you," he said thickly through his tears.

"…Look on the bright side," said Harry hesitantly, "at least Teddy'll have parents now!"

"Arthur_ did_ raise five kids to adulthood and two more near enough," Sirius added thoughtfully, "I think he'd want a new set of parents to have a chance to raise their newborn, he was a great guy like that. What do you guys think?"

But Ron, Ginny, Fred, and George didn't answer him, for they were out in the hall ripping down Sirius's mother's portrait with their bare hands because grief can make people do very strange things sometimes; they soon returned and beat Harry and Sirius to death with it. All was well.

…Actually, has anyone seen a thing done where Arthur _does_ die at this moment? That was, y'know, good and well-written and stuff? 'Cause I'd love to see it, what a great "What If?" prompt…

* * *

"Breakfast!" said Sirius loudly and joyfully, jumping to his feet. "Where's that accursed house-elf? Kreacher! KREACHER!"

But Kreacher did not answer the summons even though he totally should have since it was a direct order from his master…unless of course Narcissa was even at that moment explaining to him that since Walburga had cast Sirius out of the family he had actually never needed to answer to him and was reprimanding him for never going immediately to her in the first place since she or at least Draco was technically next in line to inherit all the things since Sirius was also a prisoner of Azkaban and could therefore not really own anything…or he could just be punishing himself so he wouldn't really have to go back, either way…

* * *

Without preamble Harry told his godfather every detail of the vision he had had, including the fact that he himself had been the snake who had attacked Mr. Weasley.

When he paused for breath, Sirius said, "Did you tell Dumbledore this?"

"Yes," said Harry impatiently, "but he didn't tell me what it meant. Well, he doesn't tell me anything anymore…"

"I'm sure he would've told you if it was anything to worry about—I'm sorry," Sirius cut himself off, choking back a laugh, "I just could not say that with a straight face."

* * *

"It must have been the aftermath of the vision, that's all," said Sirius. "You were still thinking of the dream or whatever it was and—"

"It wasn't that," said Harry, shaking his head. "It was like something rose up inside me, like there's a _snake_ inside me—"

"That's called an erection," said Sirius slowly, putting his hand on Harry's shoulder. "Either that or malaria. But don't worry, they have potions for everything now."

"That's not what I meant and you know it, Sirius!"

"You need to sleep," said Sirius firmly. "You're going to have breakfast and then go upstairs to bed, and then you can go and see Arthur after lunch with the others. You're in shock, Harry; you're blaming yourself for something you only witnessed, and it's lucky you _did_ witness this or Arthur might have died. Just stop worrying—"

"I _can't_ stop worrying, it's a bit difficult to forget the sensation of sinking my own teeth into Mr. Weasley's face, all right?!" Harry snapped. _"Jesus_ you're bad at this today!"

"I know, I sowwy."

* * *

"There isn't any _Seer _blood in your family, is there?" Tonks inquired curiously, as they sat side by side on a train rattling toward the heart of the city.

"Fucked if I know," said Harry, thinking of the tapestry on Sirius's drawing room wall and wondering if Charlus and Dorea Potter were his paternal grandparents or perhaps his great aunt and uncle or something so maybe he could ask Sirius about it later except not because when would that ever happen.

* * *

"Wasn't easy to find a good location for a hospital," grunted Moody. "Nowhere in Diagon Alley was big enough even though we've already shown that we're good at making things bigger on the inside and we couldn't have it underground like the Ministry — unhealthy. Somehow. You'd think we'd be able to fix that with magic but enh. In the end they managed to get hold of a building up here. Theory was sick wizards could come and go and just blend in with the crowd, because people with extra hands jutting out of their chests or small children who've just sprouted wings or blokes who've just been torn apart by werewolves would _naturally_ blend in with any normal Muggle crowd, never mind the way we normally fail to dress to their satisfaction…"

* * *

Harry, stop being amazed by the constant magic that's always happening around you, it's getting annoying. And here I though the films were just making you look dumb; turns out you're actually just that dumb, who knew.

* * *

And people say _we _have problems with women's health issues, at least hospitals in the States have bloody maternity wards!

* * *

Molly stop being a poo-head.

* * *

The flesh-colored strings wriggled like long skinny worms, then snaked under the door. For a few seconds Harry could hear nothing, then he heard Tonks whispering as clearly as though she were standing right beside him.

"…they searched the whole area but they couldn't find the snake anywhere, it just seems to have vanished after it attacked you, Arthur…But You-Know-Who can't have expected a snake to get in, can he?"

"Let's put this conversation on hold for the moment," growled Moody, "the kids are using Extendable Ears again, I can see you, you know."

"I WILL _MURDER_ THOSE TWO!" screamed Mrs. Weasley, and Harry, Ron, Ginny, Fred, and George all had to stay at St. Mungo's for a couple hours themselves to get their eardrums repaired.

* * *

There was only one thing for it: He would have to leave Grimmauld Place straightaway. He would spend Christmas at Hogwarts without the others, which would keep them safe over the holidays at least…But no, that wouldn't do, there were still plenty of people at Hogwarts to maim and injure, what if it was Seamus, Dean, or Neville next time? He stopped his pacing and stood staring at Phineas Nigellus's empty frame, idly wondering why the narrative had to use the guy's full name every single fucking time he appeared. A leaden sensation was settling in the pit of his stomach. He had no alternative: He was going to have to kill himself. He had momentarily thought about returning to Privet Drive and cutting himself off from other wizards entirely, but not even the Dursleys deserved to be killed by him during the night, how would he explain that to the Muggle authorities, and if that happened there was no way whoever survived would let him stay…And besides, if Voldemort could transport him anywhere he liked, then just leaving wouldn't save everyone either. Getting rid of the problem permanently was, unfortunately, his only solution. And he would have to do it soon, too, before it happened again…He would sneak a knife from the kitchen table tonight at dinner, wait until everyone else was asleep, leave the house and walk a short ways so at least Sirius wouldn't have to be the one to find his body…Harry wrapped his arms around himself to stop shaking. He didn't want to die, but if it was the only way to save the people he cared about, or anyone else who got in Voldemort's way, then so be it.

* * *

"Fine, go then!" Harry bellowed at the empty frame. "And tell Dumbledore thanks for nothing!"

The empty canvas remained silent. Fuming, and thinking it a tad odd that no one else in the house had heard him shouting, Harry took up his trunk again and slipped out of the house miraculously without anyone noticing and took the Knight Bus back to the Dursleys anyway despite Dumbledore ordering him to stay because he didn't give a fuck what Dumbledore wanted anymore and he was still terrified of hurting the people he cared about and that was his main priority at the moment, not following the instructions of someone who so clearly didn't care about the safety of others that he was willing to delay rescuing a man dying of snake poison and blood loss to interrogate some kid about whether his dream was first-person or third-person when _THAT'S_ THE THING THAT COULD'VE WAITED JESUS CHRIST THIS GUY.

* * *

The empty canvas _still _remained silent. Fuming, Harry dragged his trunk back to the foot of his bed, then climbed on the bed and hunched himself against the bedstead again to make sure he didn't fall asleep. It was tough; he had to keep slapping his face to stay awake, though he nearly nodded off when Ron entered the room.

"Harry, Mum says…What're you doing?"

"Keeping myself awake," said Harry in a monotone.

"Don't want to have another vision?" Ron guessed.

"Basically." He didn't want to voice his real fear of attacking them all during the night.

"Well Mum says dinner's ready, you wanna come down?"

"Not that hungry," said Harry honestly.

"Might keep you awake," said Ron.

"She feeds me so much I _will_ fall asleep afterwards."

"Just slip it onto my plate when she's not looking, then."

"…Think I'm good for now."

"Okay, she says she'll save you something, so…" Ron shrugged.

"Mm." Harry watched Ron leave, waited till he was out of earshot, then banged his head against the top of the bedstead; it probably wouldn't help his untreated concussion any but the sharp pain it provided might keep him up a bit longer.

After dinner, Ron came back in, nodded at him, changed into pajamas, and collapsed into bed where he started snoring within minutes. Envying him while his insides began to ache with hunger, Harry pinched himself a bit to try and keep himself awake again. He must've nodded off at one point because the next time he was conscious of his surroundings it had become much darker, his stomach hurt even more, and he saw the dark outline of Phineas standing again in his portrait. It had occurred to Harry that Dumbledore had probably sent Phineas to watch over him, in case he attacked somebody else.

The feeling of being unclean intensified and Harry quickly got up and went in search of a room that didn't have any portraits, finding one easily in one of the bathrooms. As paranoid as he was about attacking someone again he did _not_ like the idea of someone he barely knew watching him while he slept, that was just beyond creepy.

Thankfully the cold tiles on the bathroom floor kept him awake the rest of the night, putting up decorations around Grimmauld Place with Sirius kept him awake during the day, and he was able to keep up this routine for two more days and nights, though once he started throwing chairs at what he thought were massive clusters of writhing snakes that actually turned out to be Sirius and Ginny, Mrs. Weasley forced a Dreamless Sleep Potion down his throat, and after he woke up everyone finally sat him down for an intervention, and then Sirius had a lovely shouting match with Dumbledore about keeping shit from Harry causing him to be a danger to himself and others, it was great.

* * *

When Harry heard Mrs. Weasley calling his name softly up the stairs around lunchtime he retreated farther upstairs and ignored her, and she didn't come after him herself nor did Sirius get concerned enough to go up and try to talk to Harry himself and none of the kids cared enough to confront him directly like Hermione ended up having to do because everyone's totally awesome like that.

* * *

"Well, can you remember everything you've been doing?" Ginny asked. "Are there big blank periods where you don't know what you've been up to?"

Harry racked his brains.

"No," he said.

"Then You-Know-Who hasn't ever possessed you," said Ginny simply.

"It might be different considering you had an outside physical object and I've just got this weird incorporeal thing going on with my scar that is actually attached to my face, though," said Harry.

"…Bugger, that's actually a really good point."

* * *

_A/N: Every adult in the series is just playing Quidditch with the Idiot Ball in this one, aren't they._ -_-

_**Review or no one'll confirm that you didn't actually transform into a snake and attempt to murder one of your best friend's parental units.**_


	7. Okay Seriously, Hermione, Stop It

_A/N: Roger Lloyd-Pack's passing affected me far more than I expected it to. We'll miss you, Owen Newitt; you were one of the funniest characters Dibley had to offer, and that's saying a great deal indeed. :'(_

_...SO HOW 'BOUT THAT PARODY, EH. Bit of a trigger warning for suicide in this chapter, but with all of the ones caused by bullying happening more and more everywhere I was always sadly able to see it happen in the scene coming up. Just be aware._

_Oh and Pottermore updated or something, Iunno. I think they're saving the bestest and mostest new information for the final chapters again, which after the example PoA provided I am TOTALLY down for, so...yeah, keep doing what you're doing even if you didn't give us too much new stuff this time, I guess._

**Disclaimer: **Stuff stolen from _The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers Extended Edition, Rifftrax, Blazing Saddles, Mulan,_ and some series or other that's apparently going to be turned into a stage play. Somehow. Iunno.

* * *

"Good haul this year," Ron informed Harry through a cloud of paper. "Thanks for the Broom Compass, it's excellent, beats Hermione's — she's got me a _homework planner_—"

Harry sorted through his presents and found one with Hermione's handwriting on it. She had given him too a book — that is actually how the beginning of that sentence is structured, I'm not even kidding, look it up, hardcover US got-it-the-day-it-came-out edition page 501, it's right there near the bottom, it's terrible — that resembled a diary, except it said things like _"Do it today or later you'll pay!"_ every time he opened a page. Harry immediately stood up and threw it in the bin.

"What're you playing at?" Ron asked sharply, though he was looking longingly at the bin himself.

"What happened last time we got hold of a diary that talked back?" said Harry simply. "Which is exactly what we'll tell her when she asks about them, I personally don't think I can take the flashbacks," he finished with a wink.

"…Ohhh, I get it," said Ron, grinning and tapping his nose. "Don't be hasty," he finished with a broad smile.

"Exactly," said Harry, grinning back and smoking his pipe weed.

* * *

…Tonks's present sucks.

* * *

"Who's that for anyway?" said Ron, nodding at the neatly wrapped present Hermione was carrying.

"Kreacher," said Hermione brightly.

"What, you send darling Draco a present too?" said Ron warningly. "Or how 'bout…who else do we know that's incredibly prejudiced toward everyone else we know?"

"Besides the entirety of Slytherin House that we've met so far?" said Harry darkly.

"Oh shut up," said Hermione scathingly, "I'm just trying to show him a little kindness so he'll show kindness back to me—"

"He was brainwashed to hate everyone who's not a pureblood wizard who believes the same garbage he believes!" Ron exploded. "Some people take that shit to the fucking _grave!"_

"Well he might not!" Hermione insisted. "We just need to make this a group effort!"

"Bit hard when every other word that comes out of his mouth is so hateful and hurtful that one of us will end up seriously hurting him if he pushes us too far," said Harry, "remember what me and George did to Malfoy?"

"Malfoy's different," said Hermione, "Kreacher actually has a chance."

"No, Kreacher's a _house-elf_ so you're forcing yourself to care and to try more," said Ron.

"YOU KNOW NOTHING."

"Prove me wrong, then."

"FUCK YOU."

"Snappy comeback."

* * *

"You can put them in envelopes," Lockhart—oh, sorry, it's _Gilderoy_ now—said to Ginny, throwing the signed pictures into her lap one by one as he finished them. "I am not forgotten, you know, no, I still receive a very great deal of fan mail…Gladys Gudgeon writes _weekly_…I just wish I knew _why_…and also why, if she's so obsessed with me, that she never comes to visit me in person; is it because she's too shy or worried that she might embarrass herself or is it because she's married to that Davey Gudgeon bloke that was mentioned offhand that one time and so actually coming to see me would be seen as being unfaithful? I mean, she could just be Davey's sister, we don't know, it might not be a problem at all so why are you lot my first ever visitors…?" He paused, looking faintly puzzled, then beamed again and returned to his signing with renewed vigor. "Eh, who gives a shit, amirite?"

* * *

Neville looked as though he would rather be anywhere in the world but here. A dull purple flush was creeping up his plump face and he was not making eye contact with any of them. Which forced him to glance at the plant beside Broderick Bode's bedside.

"That's Devil's Snare!" he cried, pointing at the plant. "Get that thing away from him before it kills him!"

"W-What?" asked the Healer, looking between him and the plant in surprise. "A-Are you quite sure, dear—"

"No, he's right, I can't believe I didn't recognize it!" cried Hermione, staring at the swaying plant herself with wide, shocked eyes. "What's that thing doing in a hospital? Why would anyone buy a patient a plant like that?"

"Who sent it to him?" said Harry swiftly as the Healer quickly picked the pot back up again.

"I don't know, it was sent anonymously!" cried the Healer in dismay. "I need to report this, I'm so sorry, I can't believe I managed a E on my Herbology N.E.W.T. but I wasn't able to recognize one of the more basic plants you learn about as a frelling first year…I'm sorry again, I'll be right back!"

She hurriedly shuffled out the door.

"…Well that was a fun adventure," said Ron, looking shaken. "So anyway, Neville, what brings you here?"

"Bugger," muttered Harry and Neville under their breaths.

* * *

_**FUCK YOU, AUGUSTA.**_

* * *

For the first time in his life, Harry was not looking forward to returning to Hogwarts. Going back to school would mean placing himself once again under the tyranny of Dolores Umbridge, who had no doubt managed to force through another dozen decrees in their absence. Then there was no Quidditch to look forward to now that he had been banned; there was every likelihood that their burden of homework would increase as the exams drew even nearer; Dumbledore remained as remote as ever; in fact, if it had not been for the D.A., Harry felt he might have gone to Sirius and begged him to let him leave Hogwarts and remain in Grimmauld Place. Why hasn't someone written something where he totally does so anyway and lets Hermione run the shit since it was her idea in the first place.

* * *

Sirius pushed his chair roughly aside and strode around the table toward Snape, pulling out his wand as he went; Snape whipped out his own. They were squaring up to each other, Sirius looking livid, Snape calculating, his eyes darting from Sirius's wand tip to his face.

"JUST FUCK ALREADY," Harry bellowed.

"Gwhah?" sputtered both Sirius and Snape in shock, gaping at Harry as though he'd just announced he was pregnant. Harry looked innocently back at them, muttering, "What?"

* * *

The kitchen door opened and the entire Weasley family, plus Hermione, minus Percy because he's being a git and apparently no longer counts as family and also minus Charlie because he also no longer counts as family since who even is that, all looking very happy, with Mr. Weasley walking proudly in their midst dressed in a pair of striped pajamas covered by a mackintosh. What the fuck is a mackintosh. Oh _that's_ a mackintosh. Well just say coat, then, I got five rows of pictures of chairs and weird stain glass and things before Google images showed a single coat, Jesus, Americans are dumb, you know, we need simple things which is _totally_ why you keep repeating Lee's last name fuck my life.

* * *

"Dumbledore wants to stop you having those dreams about Voldemort," said Hermione at once. "Well, you won't be sorry not to have them anymore, will you?"

"If it means I could've saved someone's life again then yeah, probably," said Harry immediately.

"I'm totally with him on this one," said Ron, nodding in the direction of where his father sat, cheerfully discussing something with Bill. "And besides, I'd much rather have the nightmares over extra lessons with Snape, imagine how much worse the nightmares would get!"

* * *

I like how Snape is able to remove certain memories that he doesn't want Harry to see but that Harry is not granted the same luxury or even told that such a thing is possible, that's nice and trust-building.

* * *

"I am about to attempt to break into your mind," said Snape softly. "We are going to see how well you resist. I have been told that you have already shown aptitude at resisting the Imperius Curse…You will find that similar powers are needed for this…Brace yourself now…"

"How do I do that?" asked Harry. "Sir?"

"_Legilimens!"_

"Oh thanks, that was helpful OW MY BRAIN. I THINK I NEED THAT FOR THINGS."

* * *

"Well, for a first attempt that was not as poor as it might have been," said Snape, raising his wand once more. "You managed to stop me eventually, though you wasted time and energy shouting. You must remain focused. Try not to let the fact that there's a creepy guy in a black dress jabbing a stick into your face distract you in any way. Repel me with your brain and you will not need to resort to your wand."

"I'm trying," said Harry angrily, "but you're not telling me how! I have no idea what I'm doing and I don't know _how_ to discipline my mind or repel you with it or any of that crap! You're supposed to be teaching me _how_ to do this, not just telling me _to_ do it! I have to crawl before I can run marathons, you prick!"

"Manners, Potter," said Snape dangerously.

"Sorry, I have to crawl before I can run marathons, _Professor_ Prick."

"That's better."

* * *

Oooooh, if that concussion hasn't healed yet he _really_ shouldn't be doing Occlumency…Nyang…

* * *

_Fools who wallow in sad memories and allow themselves to be provoked easily?! _YOU FUCKING _**HYPOCRITE!**_

* * *

"There are many things in the Department of Mysteries, Potter, few of which you would understand and none of which concern you aside from that one ultra-specific thing that totally concerns you and is also directly my fault for it concerning you, do I make myself plain?"

* * *

"Well, write it in your homework planner then!" said Hermione encouragingly. "So you don't forget!"

"Yeah…" said Harry, glancing sideways at Ron, "I've been meaning to reimburse you for those, actually, since Ron and I got rid of them almost immediately."

"What?" said Hermione, looking hurt. "Why? I thought you'd really appreciate them since it's O.W.L. year and all!"

"We would if they didn't talk back," Ron lied smoothly, "since, you know, the last time a diary-like object talked back to us my sister ended up being possessed by You-Know-Who and Harry's arm was impregnated with basilisk venom."

"Also you'd just remind us to do our homework again anyway," said Harry, "so they would've been a bit redundant in any case."

"…I suppose…Well, they cost me about three Galleons and nine Sickles apiece, so—"

"So I'll run up and get seven Galleons and a Sickle," said Harry easily. "No, Ron, shut up, I got this."

"I really wasn't gonna say anything this time," said Ron.

"Oh. Well okay then."

* * *

The Ministry of Magic announced late last night that there has been a mass breakout from Azkaban.

Speaking to reporters in his private office, Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic, confirmed that ten high-security prisoners escaped in the early hours of yesterday evening, and that he has already informed the Muggle Prime Minister of the dangerous nature of these individuals.

"We find ourselves, most unfortunately, in the same position we were two and a half years ago when the murderer Sirius Black escaped aside from the fact that that was just one guy and there are now eleven insane murderers roaming the streets but never mind that just now," said Fudge last night. "Nor do we think the two breakouts are unrelated, being the only two breakouts in the public eye to ever happen ever. An escape of this magnitude suggests outside help, and we must remember that Black, as the first known person ever to break out of Azkaban, would be ideally placed to help others follow in his footsteps. We think it likely that Black, after failing to kill Harry Potter two years ago, dicked around and did absolutely nothing for that entire length of time before suddenly deciding that it would be a totally awesome idea to break his cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange, and other fellow Death Eaters out of jail, kicking himself the whole time for not doing it in the first place when he initially escaped which would have made more sense. We are, however, doing all we can to round up the criminals, aside of course from stationing dementors around a boarding school once again since there is absolutely no way whatsoever that Lestrange might pull a Black and try to go after the only person she failed to severely fuck up the last time she went around killing and torturing people. And even if she did, more power to her, we really don't care about anyone involved in the educational system this year, they can do whatever the hell they like. On no account should any of these individuals be approached, not that it matters, they'll probably just kill you in your sleep or catch you totally unawares and torture you till you beg for death. Don't panic, guys, we got this."

* * *

Hermione ripped open the newspaper and began to read the report inside while Harry looked around the Great Hall. He could not understand why his fellow students were not looking scared or at least discussing the terrible piece of news on the front page, but very few of them took the newspaper every day like Hermione. That made him understand. He stood up.

"So there was another breakout from Azkaban, a mass one this time," said Harry in a carrying voice, pointing to the paper in Hermione's hands. Everyone turned to look at him, some looking scared but most disbelieving.

"Come off it," said Zacharias from the Hufflepuff table, "how the hell is _that_ possible? At least make something up that people would actually believe!"

"I must not tell lies," said Harry slightly pointedly, shrugging. "Check out anyone with a newspaper, you'll see that I'm telling the truth."

He sat back down and Hermione was instantly mobbed by nearly all the Gryffindors as everyone in the Great Hall started clambering around for the news. Neville, who had already gotten up to check the _Prophet_ as soon as Harry made the announcement, met Harry's eyes and mouthed "Thanks" at him. Harry nodded back. This was something that shouldn't be kept from anyone.

* * *

"Where are you going?" said Ron, startled.

"To send a letter," said Hermione, swinging her bag onto her shoulder. "It…well, I don't know whether…but it's worth trying…and I'm the only one who can…"

"I _hate_ when she does that," grumbled Ron as he and Harry got up from their table and made their own, slower way out of the Great Hall. "Would it kill her to tell us what she's up to for once? Does she keep forgetting that she almost _did_ die one time before she told us anything, delaying the entire plot of the second book for like another month or something?"

* * *

Rumors were flying that some of the convicts had been spotted in Hogsmeade, that they were supposed to be hiding out in the Shrieking Shack and that they were going to break into Hogwarts, just as Sirius Black had done. And yet no one went to the headmaster or the Ministry's puppet teacher to demand where Hogwarts's protection was this time around because everyone's super proactive like that.

Those who came from Wizarding families had grown up hearing the names of these Death Eaters spoken with almost as much fear as Voldemort's; the crimes they had committed during the days of Voldemort's reign of terror were legendary. Which is why we only get told like one big murder or crime per Death Eater because that's enough to imply that they've killed and tortured and ruined the lives of hundreds if not thousands of dudes.

* * *

This latest decree had been the subject of a great number of jokes among the students. Lee Jordan had pointed out that Jordan was his last name, and also he told Umbridge that by the terms of the new rule she was not allowed to tell Fred and George off for playing Exploding Snap in the back of the class.

"Exploding Snap's got nothing to do with Defense Against the Dark Arts, Professor! That's not information relating to your subject!"

When Harry next saw Lee, which couldn't have been too long since they're in the same common room and he shows up all the time, the back of his hand was bleeding rather badly. Harry talked to him, asking about how he could have started continuously bleeding so quickly since it took four detentions for his scars to set in, and unfortunately Lee didn't have an answer for him. They traded horror stories, wondered how no one else outside of their close friends noticed when Harry was able to spot Lee's hand easily enough, figured that terrible detentions were not information relating to any of the subjects the professors were paid to teach so they still couldn't really tell anyone, and Harry recommended essence of Murtlap.

* * *

Every single Divination and Care of Magical Creatures lesson was now conducted in the presence of Umbridge and her clipboard. Somehow. Even though she has to teach four different classes from first years to six and two additional classes for the combined N.E.W.T. years, which is, what, twenty-two different classes of her own that she has to somehow fit into her schedule every week? The hell does she fit in all this other bullshit as well? Especially since…wait…There are five school days in a week, and according to the schedule Harry and the others were handed at the beginning of the year there can be up to four classes a day…which is only twenty classes…so how do even the normal teachers fit all their shit in…MATH IS HARD.

* * *

"Shut up, Ron," said Hermione angrily. "How many times have you suspected Snape, and when have you _ever_ been right? Dumbledore trusts him, he works for the Order, that ought to be enough."

"He used to be a Death Eater," said Ron stubbornly. "And we've never seen proof that he _really_ swapped sides…"

"Dumbledore trusts him," Hermione repeated. "And if we can't trust a guy who leaves Harry alone with PTSD in an exceptionally unsupportive environment, made it so he was convinced he was being possessed by Voldemort and nearly leave us forever, forced him to participate in the tournament, didn't heal his leg until he talked about the most horrible thing he's witnessed so far, sent us to break the laws of time and space that one time, didn't do anything productive to ensure our safety while there was a basilisk hanging around the school, put something Voldemort was sure to go after in a school full of children and practically goaded _us_ to go after Quirrell alone, hired Quirrell in the first place when he knew there was something wrong with him, hired _Lockhart_ when he knew he was a fraud and lying through his teeth and probably Memory Charming people to teach a bunch of _underage children_, and left a baby unguarded on a doorstep in November when it might've rained that night and he could've just woke up and walked away, we can't trust anyone."

"Right," said Ron dubiously. "So about that thing you went off to do several weeks ago by this point, what was up with that?"

"Oh, I needed to talk to Rita Skeeter about setting up an interview with Harry and force him to tell the truth this time."

"…Well if I'd known that," said Harry angrily, "I might've been able to prepare what I wanted to say and also to prepare myself emotionally for the inevitable flashbacks, been able to tell Cho about it so our date wouldn't have been a complete mess, and wouldn't be comparing you unfavorably to Dumbledore right now for keeping me in the dark about something that I should've known about and that you could've easily told me about at any time."

"Well she didn't agree yet, it's not even set in stone so I figured I shouldn't prepare you just so you'd get let down if she refused."

"But she _can't_ refuse it because you're _blackmailing_ her."

"Eh, details."

"I dislike you with great intensity."

* * *

"Are you coming?" Harry asked Ron, but he shook his head looking glum.

"I can't come to Hogsmeade at all, Angelina wants a full day's training. Like it's going to help — we're the worst team I've ever seen, and I support the Chudley Cannons. You should see Kirk and Sloper, they're pathetic, even worse than I am."

"…So basically you can go join up with your favorite Quidditch team whenever you want."

"I HAVE A NEW DREAM IN LIFE."

"Called it."

* * *

"You really miss it, don't you?" said Cho.

He looked around and saw her watching him.

"Yeah," sighed Harry. "I do."

"Remember the first and frankly only time we played against each other, in the third year?" she asked him.

"Yeah," said Harry, grinning. "You were in fourth year, weren't you?"

"Yes, I was," she said, giggling a little, "I don't know why I phrased it like that."

* * *

"Oh, there's a really nice place just up here, haven't you ever been to Madam Puddifoot's?" Cho said brightly, and she led him up a side road and into a small tea shop that Harry had never noticed before. It was a cramped, steamy little place where everything seemed to have been decorated with frills or bows. Harry was reminded unpleasantly of Umbridge's office.

"Cute, isn't it?" said Cho happily.

"It looks like Umbridge's office," said Harry before he could stop himself. Just as he started to panic and rushed to try and backtrack, he found Cho looking at him sympathetically.

"Three Broomsticks?" she asked understandingly.

"Yeah, that sounds nice," he said, holding the door open for her as they exited the tea shop again. "Sorry, it's just—"

"I'm not going to be responsible for giving you flashbacks," Cho said firmly as she led him back to the main road. "Unless it's about Cedric and You-Know-Who, of course."

"Well, those memories _are_ more pleasant," said Harry darkly, and Cho laughed slightly uncomfortably.

Then they met up with Hermione, Luna, and Rita at the Three Broomsticks and Cho didn't get all delusional and was really supportive during the interview even though she cried a little and they happily stayed together for a couple months into the following school year until she dumped him because he was staring at Ginny too long. All was well.

* * *

"Women!" Harry muttered angrily, sloshing down the rain-washed street with his hands in his pockets. "What did she want to talk about Cedric for anyway? Why does she always want to drag up a subject that makes her act like a human hosepipe? Why am I talking to myself out loud like this? Why am I asking you?"

* * *

"Family," said Hagrid gloomily. "Whatever yeh say, blood's important…"

"Oh yeah," said Harry quietly, glaring up at Hagrid. "I'm sure Sirius would be thrilled with that analysis now that his cousin's escaped from prison, and also every time he goes past his mother's portrait."

"Quiet, yeh."

* * *

Hermione glanced over at the back of Cho's head and sighed. "Oh Harry," she said sadly. "Well, I'm sorry, but you were a bit tactless."

"_Me_, tactless?" said Harry outraged. "Says Miss Oh How I Wish I Could See Thestrals?"

"That was a sensitivity issue, this is a gender differences issue that actually wouldn't even make much sense to some women since you _did_ do exactly what I said and thought it was so obvious that you and I were just friends that you're unable to even conceive that others might see things differently so every single one of your actions are perfectly understandable and I'm just kind of being a bitch to you right now."

"You're the best sister figure ever," Harry snarled sarcastically.

"That's what I'm here for. And that's probably what you should go over and tell her right now, actually, that you only see me as a friend and like a sister and that you think incest is icky, she'll probably forgive you instantly. And tell her about the interview too, that'll make her feel better."

"No it won't, I'll talk to three other women about Cedric but not to her? She won't go for that!"

"Point. Well you're screwed then."

"Oh hurrah."

* * *

"You should write a book," Ron told Hermione as he cut up his potatoes, "translating mad things girls do so boys and frankly other girls half the time can understand them."

* * *

"That's the trouble with Quidditch," said Hermione absently, once again bent over her Rune translation, "it creates all this bad feeling and tension between the Houses since the House Cup system and Snape and McGonagall's constant, visible enmity does absolutely nothing to have perpetuated that in the first place."

* * *

_It wasn't a very fast Snitch?!_ No wonder Ginny managed to go pro!

* * *

"I haven't got the heart to take the mickey out of him, even," said Fred, looking over at Ron's crumpled figure. "Mind you…when he missed the fourteenth…"

He made wild motions with his arms as though doing an upright doggy-paddle.

"Well, I'll save it for parties, eh?"

Ron dragged himself up to bed shortly after this. Out of respect for his feelings, Harry waited a while before going up to the dormitory himself, so that Ron could pretend to be asleep if he wanted to. When Harry finally entered the room, Ron was nowhere to be found, but one of the windows was wide open. Harry ran to his trunk and ripped out the Map, but Ron wasn't anywhere on it either. He rushed back down to the common room and ran as fast as he could to McGonagall's office, ignoring everyone staring after him as he went.

They didn't find his body until the following morning when it was finally bright enough to see Ron's limp form impaled on a spire atop one of the lower towers. Harry and Hermione were utterly destroyed from that moment on and Fred and George finally learned that _**MAYBE THEY TAKE THINGS TOO FUCKING FAR SOMETIMES.**_

* * *

"Another one who thinks you're barking," said Ron, throwing a crumpled letter over his shoulder, "but this ones says you've got her converted, and now she thinks you're a real hero — she's put in a photograph too — wow, this one's basically a pedophile, we should probably report this one, might be dangerous—"

* * *

"I'll bet you wish you hadn't given up Divination now, don't you, Hermione?" asked Parvati, smirking.

It was breakfast time a few days after the sacking of Professor Trelawney, and Parvati was curling her eyelashes around her wand and examining the effect in the back of her spoon. They were to have their first lesson with Firenze that morning and it was somehow impossible for her to have done up her eyelashes in her own dorm before coming down for breakfast so she could've used a proper mirror.

"Not really," said Hermione indifferently, who was reading the _Daily Prophet_. "I've never really liked horses."

She turned the page of the newspaper, scanning its columns.

"You're fucking kidding me," said Lavender, sounding shocked. "You'll stick up for house-elves to the point of defending a racist that I somehow know about, you get offended every time someone calls you a Mudblood even if you don't show it, and yet you call centaurs something that you _must_ know they'd be offended by and is probably the equivalent of a slur to them?!"

"It's _fine_,_"_ said Hermione uncaringly, turning the page of her paper.

"Also he's kind of obscenely gorgeous…" sighed Parvati.

"That's basically bestiality," said Hermione, lowering the paper. "He's still got four legs, you know."

"Hate to know what you'd say about a human born with a defect like that," said Parvati coldly. "And it's only bestiality if I actually have sex with the guy, I'm pretty sure that won't ever happen, and in the meantime I can just stare longingly at his chest while wishing a guy like that existed in human form, what's wrong with that?"

"Not to mention you are now insulting Hagrid's dad, one of Maxime's parents, one of Flitwick's predecessors that may be a parent, one of Fleur's grandfathers, not to mention her father and Bill, and some would argue Fleur herself in addition to Tonks and hopefully Victoire," said Lavender scathingly. "Hell, some might argue even _Harry's_ mum_,_ if it came to that, since his dad had that option."

"Whatever," said Hermione vaguely.

"See, this is why we never hang out," said Parvati, turning away in disgust.

* * *

"Is she coming?" Harry asked quietly.

Dobby let out a howl, and began beating his bare feet hard on the floor. "Yes, Harry Potter, yes!"

Harry straightened up and looked around at the motionless, terrified people gazing at the thrashing elf.

"Okay, I want everyone to focus on wishing the door isn't here and that no one can get in," he said loudly.

Everyone closed their eyes and within seconds the door melted back into the wall.

"Brilliant, everyone!" said Harry, grinning as the D.A. all smiled at each other. "Now…Think we can make it let us out somewhere else, far away from the seventh floor?"

"How about the library?" suggested Alicia. "It's fine to be there still, right?"

"Okay, everyone concentrate again," said Harry, and before long a part of the floor slid down and aside to reveal a long slide that would lead, presumably, to the library.

"Right then," said Harry, smiling down at Dobby. "Dobby — this is an order — get back down to the kitchens with the other elves, and if she asks you whether you warned me, lie and say no. And I forbid you to hurt yourself, you understand?"

"Yes, thank you, Harry Potter, sir!" said Dobby, smiling tearfully and nodding so hard that a couple of his hats threatened to fall off. He snapped his fingers and disappeared.

"Okey dokey, let's get this show on the road!" said Fred, pumping his fist in the air and jumping down the slide. With similar cheers the rest of the D.A. followed one by one. Harry lingered behind, pulling the Marauder's Map out of his pocket and frowning at it.

"Reckon you should've had someone watching that at all times, eh?" said Ron cheekily.

"Yeah, kinda," said Harry, frowning. "Hey Hermione, grab the list in case Umbridge does manage to break in, would you?"

"Good idea," said Hermione darkly, running back for the list of all the D.A. members.

"Looks like we won't be able to meet anymore, though, does it," said Ron morosely.

"…I'd kinda run out of ideas beyond Patronuses anyway," Harry admitted sheepishly. "We can all still just practice on our own as long as we're careful."

"S'pose so."

* * *

_A/N: Okay so Katie! Was gonna reply to you at the top but the death of Barty Crouch Sr.'s actor took precedent, sorry about that, hate it when life happens. So firstly, JKR said in FAQs and whatnot that Veritaserum can apparently be beaten if one knows it's coming and memories can be falsified and because of that both methods are too unreliable to be used in court cases. Is the BS she fed us to excuse the fact that no one uses any of the magical magic at their disposal to do anything of practical value. Ever. And Sirius may have been from an old, prominent pureblood family but unlike with Lucius and the rest there were witnesses, and he couldn't really plead Voldemort's Imperius Curse anyway since Voldemort himself had just been gotten rid of mere hours before Sirius supposedly exploded everyone. The mad laughter after Peter pissed off probably didn't help much either. *shrug*_

_There's a blog called Mark Reads where Mark went through the books chapter by chapter for the very first time and apparently people DO sometimes fall for friends and acquaintances right the fuck out of nowhere since he described a couple of instances where he did just that himself, I didn't really believe it either at first but I suppose it's a case of Reality Is Unrealistic and now I'm slightly more on board with it than before. And hey, at least Ginny has more of a personality here than in the films, amirite? :3_

_I've been saying "raison"? Damn, meant to say "raisin". I is right next to O on the keyboard and I never edit enough. Enh, either way, it is absolutely intentionally mispronouncing it, I think it started in Futurama, might be wrong about that, but then got brought back in a YouTube Let's Play series I've been following called Two Best Friends Play where they do that occasionally and I've come into the habit of saying it myself, and because I think it's funny I slip it into my writing because I'm super lame. Glad you thought it was cool, though! XD_

_**Review or Hermione'll continue to make less and less sense as the series goes on.**_


	8. I Can't Speak British

_A/N: They fixed the prefects docking points thing in reprints and stuff, I ain't commenting on that. Also for the upcoming section with the Career Advice, yoneld informed me of certain aspects of British English as opposed to American English, but I'm ignoring it because I want to keep pretending that the four years I spent getting that degree and the obscene amount of money dollars I'll be paying for the rest of my life were actually worth something in the end even if I know for a fact that they weren't, so I'm sticking with terrible old 'Murican English rules. Just let it be known that he is right and I am purposefully being wrong. Also Rule of Funny._

**Disclaimer:** The usual outright theft from _Batman, A Very Potter Musical_ and_ Sequel, Two Best Friends Play Resident Evil 4, Monty Python's Life of Brian,_ and another_ Two Best Friends Play_ episode, as well as some book series or other about some kid with glasses. _Arthur_ or something. Been _years_ since I read/watched that...

* * *

"Oho!" said Fudge, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet again. "Yes, do let's hear the latest cock-and-bull story designed to pull Potter out of trouble! Go on, then, Dumbledore, go on—Willy Widdershins was lying, was he? Or was it Potter's identical twin in the Hog's Head that day? Or is there the usual simple explanation involving a reversal of time, a dead man coming back to life, and a couple of invisible dementors?"

Percy Weasley let out a hearty laugh.

"Oh, very good, Minister, very good! My last name is Weasley, by the way!"

Harry could've kicked him, especially since he knew full well that Percy was, indeed, a Weasley. Then he saw, to his astonishment, that Dumbledore was looking down at Fudge with a rather puzzled expression on his face.

"I never said anything about a reversal of time, Cornelius," he said slowly, and McGonagall turned to stare at him as well. Trying not to let his expression give anything away, Harry looked at Fudge too and saw that even the other Auror that wasn't Kingsley was eyeing Fudge curiously.

"…I'm positive you did," said Fudge, looking up at Dumbledore. "Didn't you?"

"I most certainly did not," said Dumbledore, shaking his head slowly. "Though it is indeed possible, after all, I am aware that the Department of Mysteries has been developing Time-Turners for some time now…I just assumed that their use has been limited. Certainly I never used one myself, though I could see how one with…certain desires might find it useful…" he trailed off, gazing at Fudge as though he had just figured several things out.

"But I never used one either!" cried Fudge, looking flustered as both Kingsley and the other Auror looked down on him accusingly; even Percy was looking slightly betrayed. "Honest!"

"I think we should call Madam Bones here," said Dumbledore, heading over to the fireplace. "Her judgment is well-known to be _unbiased."_

"Now see here—"

"No, shut up, this is what we're doing."

"Aww…"

* * *

Yeah, just Memory Charm a student at will, I'm sure that won't bring any negative consequences whatsoever such as the slowly crumbling friendship between Marietta and Cho when Cho tries to talk to her about things and Marietta has no idea what she's talking about, there's no way Cho would want to investigate deeper into what's wrong with her best friend or anything—oh wait, nothing happened, there are never any consequences to anything ever.

* * *

"Well, usually when a person shakes their head," said McGonagall coldly, "they mean 'no,' at least in this part of the globe. So unless Miss Edgecombe is using a form of sign language as yet unknown to anyone outside of Bulgaria, India, Sri Lanka, Albania, and probably a few other countries that a simple Google search cannot immediately identify since it was kind of unclear about Greece and the like—"

* * *

And to Harry's horror, Umbridge withdrew from her pocket the list of names that had been pinned upon the Room of Requirement's wall. In retrospect maybe Hermione should've probably hidden it better instead of just leaving it lying around like Ernie had warned her about.

* * *

Dumbledore seized Harry's wrist.

"Remember — close your mind —"

But as Dumbledore's fingers closed over Harry's skin, a pain shot through the scar on his forehead, and he felt again that terrible, snakelike longing to strike Dumbledore, to bite him, to hurt him—

"— go to AO3 to know what this song lyric was — I will never understand," whispered Dumbledore in a disappointed voice.

Fawkes circled the office and swooped low over him. Dumbledore released Harry, raised his hand, and grasped the phoenix's long, golden tail. There was a flash of fire and the pair of them had gone.

"Where is he?" yelled Fudge, pushing himself up from the ground, his voice miraculously growing much deeper and gravelly. _"WHERE IS HE?"_

"I don't know!" shouted Kingsley, also leaping to his feet. "He must've Disapparated!"

"That's bullshit, Shacklebolt!" cried Umbridge. "You can't Disapparate inside of Hogwarts! Right?"

"Right!" called out a random portrait.

"Right!" Umbridge repeated. "Damn it!" She kicked Marietta in the face, sending her crashing to the floor as she advanced menacingly on Harry. "You got lucky, Potter. But I know you guilty too. And I'm gonna get _all_ of you!" she went on, pointing at the list still in Fudge's hand. "Because with Dumbledore gone, guess who gets to be the headmaster _nooooow!"_

"Me?" said Snape excitedly.

"Snape?" said Ron excitedly.

"No! ME! _Your mama! UMBRIDGE!"_ bellowed Umbridge. "And from now on, we gonna be doing tings around here MY WAY! We gonna be doing things…_**THE UMBRIDGE WAY!"**_

"Her enthusiasm is infectious," said Fudge adoringly as he watched Umbridge stomp around Dumbledore's office. Everyone else eyed him weirdly.

* * *

"Members of the Inquisitorial Squad _do_ have the power to dock points," said Malfoy smugly. "So, Granger, I'll have five from you for being rude about our new headmistress…Macmillan, five for contradicting me…Five because I don't like you, Potter…Weasley, your shirt's untucked and we're supposed to be wearing robes anyway so I'll have another five for not wearing the appropriate uniform…Oh yeah, I forgot, you're a Mudblood, Granger, so ten for that…"

* * *

iheartmwpp looked up from the book and went into Pottermore to check the current House Point total. At the time that she was typing this, Gryffindor was in the lead, closely followed by Ravenclaw, and Slytherin was dead last. She stared at the hourglasses ponderously, then heard footsteps and decided to do something she'd been thinking about doing for a while.

"Yo!" she called out, and a few seconds later the mother person stuck her head into the door.

"Yo?" the mother person said mockingly.

"I just thought of something," said iheartmwpp, pointing at the computer screen where the four hourglasses were lined up. "These are rubies, these are sapphires, these are emeralds," she explained, indicating Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin respectively. "What the hell are these?" she asked, pointing to Hufflepuff.

"Could be topaz, could be citrine, could be amber," the mother person listed off, slightly giddy that Ravenclaw was pulling ahead of her daughter's House if only for the moment.

"Uh-huh…And all these are precious while this one's lackluster?" said iheartmwpp sullenly, moving the cursor around.

"Semi-precious," corrected the mother person, laughing.

"That figures," said iheartmwpp, resigned, as the mother person laughed even harder. "That figures."

"They could be yellow diamonds and be more precious than all of them!" said the mother person encouragingly.

"Yeah right, I'm not gonna get my hopes up." iheartmwpp sighed, then decided to move on to something a bit more cheerful. "Speaking of this website, did you know Ted's name has actually been Edward this whole time?" she asked, pointing at the black cat that had stolen her bed again.

"Ha!"

"Stop thinking of Twilight. Think of awesome anime you've never seen, like _Fullmetal Alchemist_ or _Cowboy_ _Bebop. _Oh and the guy from _Assassin's Creed IV: Black Flag._"

"No, I don't watch animated stuff or play proper video games, you know that."

"You didn't read Harry Potter for the longest time either, but you succumbed eventually! I WILL CONVINCE YOU YET, WOMAN!"

"No you won't."

"No I won't."

* * *

Way to possibly have murdered a fellow student over House points and not even give a shit, you guys, I can see why everyone loves you dearly.

* * *

Umbridge had obviously gone to some lengths to get Filch on her side, Harry thought, and the worst of it was that he would probably prove an important weapon; his knowledge of the school's secret passageways and hidden places was probably second only to the Weasley twins except for the part where the twins and the Marauders and Harry, Ron and Hermione knew way more than he did thanks to the Marauders exploring way more than he ever did and being able to use wands in order to open some of the passages and making the Map so the future magical mischief makers could know as much as they did in addition to their own knowledge of the location of the Chamber of Secrets and the Room of Requirement. So false on all counts, basically.

* * *

Harry's a bit slow on the uptake, I wasn't thirteen for even a month yet when this book came out and the minute Umbridge offered him the tea I knew what was up.

* * *

"She's a lovely person really," said Cho. "She just made a mistake—"

Harry looked at her incredulously.

"Let me tell you about another lovely person who made a mistake," he said in a low, cold voice. "His name is Sirius Black."

Cho stared at him with a puzzled expression on her face.

"Sirius Black? A _lovely_ person?"

Harry nodded slowly, mentally resolving to apologize to Sirius the next time he saw him.

"Long ago, he was in Gryffindor House with my father and Professor Lupin. They were actually really close friends. One day, Black decided that it would be a_ lovely_ idea if he sold Lupin out and sent a Slytherin he didn't get along with after him on a full moon."

Cho gasped and covered her hands with her mouth.

"You're not serious," she said tremulously.

"Lupin told me himself," said Harry, deliberately not making the obvious pun even though Cho had set it up perfectly. "If it weren't for my father, that Slytherin might be dead now, or at least bitten."

Harry sighed.

"Now, because they were such good friends, my dad and Lupin eventually forgave Black, thinking he was _a lovely person who just made a mistake,"_ he drawled sarcastically, making Cho avoid his eyes. "A few years go by and suddenly Voldemort's after my family." He ignored Cho's flinch. "Sirius Black was the one entrusted with my family's location. If no one had told Voldemort, my parents might still be alive right now."

As Cho's eyes filled with tears, Harry added, "One more point of interest: another bloke in this group of friends happened to be Peter Pettigrew."

"Oh my God," Cho breathed.

"Marietta sold us all out, including you," Harry said softly. "I'm sure she appreciates you sticking up for her, but you're being a far better friend to her than she's been to you recently. I'm not wrong, am I?"

Cho slowly shook her head, wiping her face.

* * *

"Well…we all got away, didn't we?" said Cho pleadingly. "You know, her mum works for the Ministry, it's really difficult for her—"

"Ron's dad works for the Ministry too!" Harry said, beginning to lose his patience. "And in case you hadn't noticed, neither he nor Ginny nor the twins have got 'sneak' written across their faces even though their father is their only source of income and he doesn't make a lot to begin with! So don't come at me with that bullshit excuse!"

* * *

"On the count of three then," said Snape lazily. "One — two—"

Snape's office door banged open and Draco Malfoy sped in.

"Professor Snape, sir — oh — sorry—"

Malfoy was looking at Snape and Harry in some surprise.

"…Should've probably started locking the door when we did these things just in case this exact thing happened," said Snape, lowering his wand. "Anyway, it's all right, Draco. Potter is here for a little Remedial Potions. Which is why I had my wand out."

Harry had not seen Malfoy look so gleeful since Umbridge had turned up to inspect Hagrid.

"I somehow had no idea about this even though there was no way that Smith git wouldn't have spread it all over the school as soon as he could," he said, leering at Harry, who knew his face was burning.

* * *

Snape's hand was flying across the parchment; he had written at least a foot more than his closest neighbors, and yet his writing was miniscule and cramped and virtually unrecognizable from anything Harry would ever see again ever.

* * *

"Did you like question ten, Moony?" asked Sirius as they emerged into the entrance hall.

"Loved it," said Remus briskly. "'Give five signs that identify the werewolf.' Excellent question."

"D'you think you managed to get all the signs?" said James in tones of mock concern.

"Think I did," said Remus seriously, as they joined the crowd thronging around the front doors eager to get out into the sunlit grounds. "One: He's sitting in my chair. Two: He's wearing my clothes. Three: His name's Remus Lupin…'"

Peter was the only one who didn't laugh.

"I got the snout shape, the pupils of the eyes, and the tufted tail," said Peter anxiously, "but I couldn't think what else—"

"How thick are you, Wormtail?" said James impatiently. "You run round with a werewolf once a month—"

"Keep your voice down," implored Remus.

"No, seriously though, what were the other two signs," Peter demanded.

"Well, there was…er…" Sirius trailed off, looking over at Remus. "What were the other two signs again?"

"You know, it wasn't very clear," said Remus, rubbing his chin with his forefinger. "I guess the fact that w—_they_ attack humans exclusively counts, right?"

"I guess…I figured it was just physical signs and the like."

"I thought that too," said James, now frowning. "And those were the only four grouped together on Pottermore, so what was the fifth one?"

"…The part mentioned way earlier where it talked about them looking ill before and after the full moon?" said Sirius, poking Remus deliberately in the face.

"That's a way to identify us when we're human, though," said Remus, swatting Sirius's hand away. "I thought it just meant the part when the moon's actually full."

"Well that _does_ count toward 'identifying the werewolf,'" said James, shrugging apologetically at Remus.

"S'pose so."

"So…you think I'll get partial credit?" asked Peter hopefully.

James, Sirius, and Remus all grunted noncommittally.

"What the hell did I just listen to," said Harry wonderingly, staring at the Marauders.

* * *

"I'm bored," said Sirius. "Wish it was full moon."

"You might," said Remus darkly from behind his book. "We've still got Transfiguration, if you're bored you could test me…Here." He held out his book.

Sirius snorted. "I don't need to look at that rubbish, I know it all."

"Yeah, that's great for you, but I don't, which is why I said _you_ could test_ me,"_ said Remus slowly as if addressing a three-year-old.

"Well I don't wanna."

"You suck."

"I know."

* * *

Snape let out a stream of mixed swearwords and hexes, but his wand being ten feet away nothing happened.

"That was a horribly constructed sentence and your mouth should be washed out for that," said James coldly. _"Scourgify!"_

Pink soap bubbles streamed from Snape's mouth at once; the froth was covering his lips, making him gag, choking him — funny how everyone only counts the incident with the Whomping Willow to be the only time any of this lot ever attempted to murder the guy, this shit's fucking brutal—

"LEAVE HIM ALONE!"

James and Sirius looked around. James's free hand jumped to his hair again.

It was one of the girls from the lake edge. She had thick, dark red hair that fell to her shoulders and startlingly green almond-shaped eyes — Harry's eyes.

Harry's mother…Why didn't it occur to him to look for her in the Great Hall as well…It really is all about the men in this series, ain't it…

* * *

YAY EVERYONE WAS A MASSIVE DOUCHENOZZLE YAAAAAAY.

* * *

There was a flash of light, and Snape was once again hanging upside down in the air.

"Who wants to see me take off Snivelly's pants?"

"…No one," said Sirius slowly, gaping at James. "There something you want to tell us, mate?"

"Because we'd totally accept you regardless despite this being the seventies," said Peter.

"Wha—no! I just want to utterly humiliate him!" shrieked James in protest.

"By gaping at his naughty bits?" said Lupin from under the tree, closing his book at last. "You got problems, dude."

"DON'T YOU JUDGE ME," cried James.

"_Totally _judging you," said the other three calmly and in unison.

Also this is the first time I began to learn that 'pants' is British for 'underwear,' since in the States that's what we call trousers and thus I was confused for years, 'twas fun times.

* * *

"But why haven't you got Occlumency lessons anymore?" said Hermione, frowning.

"Because I finally managed to repel him and saw some of _his_ memories that he didn't want me to see and so he threw me out of his office practically on pain of death and no I'm not telling you what I saw because I'm afraid he really _will_ kill me if he finds out I told anyone and he _will_ find out, he always does," Harry muttered.

"He can't do that!" cried Hermione, aghast. "He's supposed to be teaching you how to protect your mind against Voldemort — do shut up, Ron, it's been several chapters now so that totally gives me the right to insult you for the same behavior I myself have been repeating for well over four years — he can't let some stupid reason like that get in the way of something this important!"

"Tell that to Dumbledore," said Harry, "he's the one who made Snape do it in the first place."

"I _can't_ tell Dumbledore, as well you know!"

"And I thank Merlin every day for that."

"I loathe you."

"I love you too."

* * *

"Well, there you are," said Hermione, handing Ron his schedule, "if you follow that you should do fine."

Ron looked down it gloomily, but then brightened.

"You've given me an evening off every week!"

"That's for Quidditch practice," said Hermione.

"You can't decide that, though," said Ron as if it were obvious, which it totally is, "Angelina's the one who decides when practice is, and N.E.W.T.s or not she'll definitely hold practices more than once a week."

"Well I'll just have to tell her that's impossible then."

"Have fun with that."

* * *

Yes, Harry had once overheard Professor McGonagall saying that his father and Sirius had been troublemakers at school, but she had described them as forerunners of the Weasley twins, and Harry could not imagine Fred and George dangling someone upside down for the fun of it despite what they had only recently done to Montague and all the shit they put Ron and Percy through…not unless they really loathed them like his father and Sirius seemed to have loathed Snape…Perhaps Malfoy, or someone who really deserved it…Which is exactly why James and Sirius attacked Snape like that so really Harry's no better than his father was after all…

* * *

Hermione was pouring over a bright pink-and-orange leaflet that was headed SO YOU THINK YOU'D LIKE TO WORK IN MUGGLE RELATIONS? "You don't seem to need many qualifications to liaise with Muggles…All they want is an O.W.L. in Muggle Studies…_'Much more important is your enthusiasm, patience, and a good sense of fun!'"_

"You'd need more than a good sense of fun to liaise with my uncle," said Harry darkly. "Good sense of when to duck, more like…"

"And yet we continue to suspect nothing," said Ron happily to Hermione.

"Indeed," said Hermione, smiling brightly, "after all, families have _never_ abused each other in all of human history!"

"HOORAY!" cheered Ron, throwing his arms in the air.

* * *

"I don't much fancy banking," said Hermione vaguely, now immersed in HAVE YOU GOT WHAT IT TAKES TO TRAIN SECURITY TROLLS?

"…So you'd fancy training security trolls then?" asked Ron tentatively.

"Not really, I don't know why I'm reading this one."

"Is it because of your compulsive need to read everything that has ever been printed in the history of humanity?"

"Go. Eat. A boat."

* * *

"What do you think about this?" Hermione demanded of Ron, and Harry was reminded irresistibly of Mrs. Weasley appealing to her husband during Harry's first dinner at Grimmauld Place. WHICH MIGHT BE AN ANVIL-SIZED HINT OF SOME KIND PERHAPS METHINKS.

* * *

Harry had just turned around when he heard a smashing noise; Malfoy gave a gleeful yell of laughter. Harry whipped around again. His potion sample lay in pieces on the floor, and Snape was surveying him with a look of gloating pleasure.

"Whoopsidoodle," he said softly. "Another zero, then, Potter…"

Harry was too incensed to speak. He strode back to his cauldron, intending to fill another flask and force Snape to mark it, but saw to his horror that the rest of the contents had vanished.

"I'm sorry!" said Hermione with her hands over her mouth. "I'm really sorry, Harry, I thought you'd finished, so I cleared up for you even though there has never been any indication of me doing so for you or Ron prior to this so I suppose I'm just showing off for the fuck of it or JKR _really_ wanted you to have an irredeemably bad day today and decided that me being a shitty friend doing something completely out of the norm was the perfect way to do it, I'm so sorry!"

* * *

"Any questions, Potter?"

"Yes," said Harry. "What sort of character and aptitude tests do the Ministry do on you, if you get enough N.E.W.T.s?"

"What sort of tests _does_ the Ministry do on you," Professor McGonagall corrected him swiftly. "I keep _telling _Albus we need a writing class up in this bitch, but dear sweet Merlin that man can be thick sometimes, and the current establishment is no better, let me tell you—I WILL SHOVE A MASSIVE PILE OF COUGH DROPS DOWN YOUR SODDING THROAT IF YOU KEEP THAT UP, DOLORES."

"Why do wizards even have cough drops," Harry wondered idly, "wouldn't you lot have potions for that that would clear anything up instantaneously?"

"Do piss off, Potter."

"How shall I piss off, O Lord?"

* * *

"I hope you've thought better of what you were planning to do, Harry—" Hermione began in a whisper.

"Nope, you're not allowed to talk to me," said Harry from the seat he had purposefully taken on the other side of Ron. "After that thing you pulled in Potions I reserve the right to not acknowledge your existence for the rest of the day."

"It _was_ a bit of a dick move," said Ron hesitantly to Hermione, who looked as though she had been slapped. "You _were_ a bit of a penis back there."

"True…" said Hermione, looking resigned. "Fine, on his own head be it."

* * *

"What is it?" said Sirius urgently, sweeping his long dark hair out of his eyes and dropping to the ground in front of the fire, so that he and Harry were on a level; Lupin knelt down too, looking very concerned. "Are you all right? Do you need help?"

"No," said Harry, "it's nothing like that…I just wanted to talk…about my dad…"

They exchanged a look of great surprise.

"And you couldn't just use the mirror for this because…?" said Sirius slowly.

"What mirror?" asked Harry, nonplussed.

A look of dawning comprehension crossed Sirius's face.

"You never opened the package I gave you before you went back to Hogwarts, did you?"

"…Forgot about it till just now," said Harry. "But what'd you give me a mirror for?"

"It's a two-way mirror," Sirius explained. "Prongs and I used to use it back in school when we had separate detentions, it allowed us to talk to each other, and I've got the other one here. Unfortunately I didn't find it until around November, otherwise we could've communicated with each other easily all year."

"I think it would be best if you go and fetch it now," said Lupin, giving Harry a small smile. "How exactly did you manage to find a fireplace that wasn't regulated, anyway?"

"I'm in Umbridge's office right now, it's the only one that isn't," said Harry, "she accidentally mentioned it to me during…a detention." He was hesitant to tell them about nearly falling for her trick of using Veritaserum on him. "Fred and George are distracting her now."

"Okay, leave now anyway, just in case," said Lupin.

"Good idea," said Harry, starting to pull back.

"Wait," said Sirius, holding out a hand to stop him. "Umbridge is mad about order and control and everything, right?"

"Yeah," said Harry, looking at Sirius nervously; the grin he was wearing was a bit unnerving.

"So her office would be really neat and orderly and everything?"

"Like you wouldn't believe."

"Brilliant. Take a vase or a tablecloth or something similar and move it just an inch or two out of place, it'll drive her mad for weeks."

"…Oh that's evil," said Lupin, suddenly grinning in a similar fashion.

"Well I _am_ from the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black," said Sirius, smirking.

"I'm gonna get on that and talk to you again very shortly, I guess," said Harry, grinning; now _this_ was a form of troublemaking he could get behind. With a final nod in both of their directions, Harry pulled his head out of the fire, stood up, and immediately glanced around the office. There was a large glass paperweight in the shape of a cat that was standing on a shelf behind Umbridge's desk, along with several books; wrapping his robe around his hand just in case the Wizarding World checked for fingerprints, Harry gently picked it up and moved it to the other side of the shelf. Then he wrapped himself back in his Invisibility Cloak, had fun watching the Weasley twins' escape from Hogwarts, and dashed back up to Gryffindor Tower, where he grabbed the mirror and hid in the bathroom where he had a _much_ more productive conversation with Sirius and Lupin and was able to get a much clearer view of what his parents and their friends were like back when they were at school. And because he interacted with the mirror, he was able to remember it when Voldemort tried to plant the fake memory and since Kreacher was spending increased amounts of time with Narcissa he had no idea about Sirius's mirror so Harry was able to confirm Sirius was still at headquarters and so Sirius fucking _lived_ and ALL WAS _**FUCKING WELL.**_

* * *

…Did Sirius and Remus never notice that Snape was at least _friends_ with Lily? Did they never put two and two together that he may have been jealous that James was the one who got her in the end since they knew he was jealous about everything _else_ James was?

* * *

Fred and George had not left instructions on how to remove the swamp that now filled the corridor on the fifth floor of the east wing. Umbridge and Filch had been observed trying different means of removing it but without success. Eventually the area was roped off and Filch, gnashing his teeth furiously, was given the task of punting students across it to their classrooms, which American readers basically pictured as drop-kicking until they managed to figure out that it basically means ferrying them in a special kind of boat in British and therefore wondered exactly why Filch was so upset about kicking small children across great distances since it seems like something he'd adore.

* * *

Dungbombs and Stinkpellets were dropped so frequently in the corridors that it became the new fashion for students to perform Bubble-Head Charms on themselves before leaving lessons, which ensured them a supply of fresh clean air, even though it gave them all the peculiar appearance of wearing upside-down goldfish bowls on their heads and even though it made the Boy Who Lived rage for a week straight about how useful this would've been had it happened the previous year so the second task would've gone way bloody easier and he wouldn't have had to worry so much about all the things.

* * *

Has _no one_ written home about the new policy on whipping, and if they have or if it was announced to the public did _none _of the parents think that this was kind of a shit idea?!

* * *

None of the staff but Filch seemed to be stirring themselves to help Umbridge. Indeed, a week after Fred and George's departure Harry witnessed Professor McGonagall walking right past Peeves, who was determinedly loosening a crystal chandelier, and could have sworn he heard her tell the poltergeist out of the corner of her mouth, "I don't even know why wizards would need screws in the first place but it actually unscrews the other way, don't ask me how I know this."

* * *

"What if Montague's permanently injured?" said Hermione in a worried voice.

"Who cares?" said Ron irritably, while his teacup stood drunkenly again, trembling violently at the knees. "Montague shouldn't have tried to take all those points from Gryffindor, should he? After all, those are far, _far_ more important than someone else's health, even though he probably wouldn't have taken more than around five from either twin, and victim blaming is always the greatest. And besides, he's a Slytherin, so he's subhuman anyway."

"You are no better than the Death Eaters, you know that," said Hermione angrily while Harry gaped at Ron in shock.

"Damn right," said Ron darkly, "you know he'll up and join them once he graduates anyway, I say we get a head start at destroying him before he ever gets a chance to destroy us."

"You don't know he'll be a Death Eater!" said Hermione exasperatedly.

"Oh yeah? Name one person we know was a Slytherin at this point in our lives who didn't go on to be irredeemably evil."

"Since Sirius made it sound like he was the first Black ever to be in Gryffindor, I'd put my money on Tonks's mum," said Harry easily. "Sirius even said Andromeda was his favorite cousin, I think you were there for that part of the conversation. And probably most of the guys who got blown off the tapestry as well. Oh and apparently _Merlin._"

"…Montague still sucks."

"Yeah, well, you don't have to be such a murderous bag of dicks."

"But it's _fuuun!"_ Ron whined.

"Dude, I, I kind of want to punch you. E-Everything you do makes me upset."

* * *

Once they had exhausted the subject of Fred and George's dramatic departure, which admittedly had taken many hours, Ron and Hermione had wanted to hear news of Sirius. As Harry had not confided in them the reason he had wanted to talk to Sirius in the first place, it had been hard to think of things to tell them. He had ended up not coming up with anything and told them flatly that it had been a private conversation between godfather and godson and he wished for it to stay that way, as they didn't have to know every single minute detail of his life as that was hardly fair. When Hermione had complained that not telling _them_ about Sirius was hardly fair as they cared about him as well, Harry snorted, told her she had a fine way of showing it, and that leaving _him_ in the dark for the entire summer was hardly fair either and now she could see how she liked it. Hermione looked as though she had been struck across the face but Ron had shrugged and said he had wondered when Harry was going to use that against them. Hermione had tried several times to force the information out of Harry, who, fed up, said that she could hardly demand private information from him since he and Ron didn't even know who her parents' first names were. Hermione fell silent after that, still refusing to even give up that information because reading two hundred and sixty-three different fanfics all with different names and things is just so much more entertaining than just fucking telling us what they are already, COME ON, POTTERMORE, WHAT THE BALLS.

* * *

_A/N: I love how the more Pottermore gives us the more questions I have. Just like canon. HOORAY!_

_**Review or Filch will drop-kick you across the castle.**_


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